Scratch and Claw
by chezchuckles
Summary: Watershed. Bridge fic between seasons 5 and 6. "It's who you are. You don't let people in. I've had to scratch and claw for every inch."
1. Chapter 1

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

_"It's who you are. You don't let people in. I've had to scratch and claw for every inch-"_  
_-Castle, Watershed_

* * *

Kate wakes alone in her bed, the cool sheet laying at her lower back like a phantom touch. She breathes in the silence for a long moment, lets the day come to her slowly. When she finally opens her eyes, she traces the unfamiliar city skyline, the clean and green compromise of nature and concrete.

It's not the same.

It's not her city.

But it sends a jolt of expectation down her spine and makes her roll over, the tilt of the room across her vision - new curtains, new television, a handful of things she's collected in the month she's lived in DC. She glances to the open bathroom door, the tile of black and white in checkerboard that reminds her of Castle's bedroom.

She closes her eyes, takes a deeper breath to push it down.

She thinks she was dreaming about it again, about being back there.

Because New York seems the dream now. DC has been a body slam of new routines, difficult information, a steep learning curve that have taken over her reality. On the job training, and she aches physically and mentally from jumping in it with both feet. A persistent ache that leaves her a little out of sync with everything else.

An out of sync that doesn't make sense, an ache she won't think about.

How she'll never be home at his loft again, never open her eyes to that silver and black checkered headboard, the so-soft sheets, the closet where she hid that first morning after. About how that was _never_ really her home, no matter what she was telling herself.

Enough. It's a new day.

Kate sits up, dispelling whatever dreams still want to lurk this morning. She throws off the sheet-

"Hey there. You're finally up."

She jerks her eyes to Castle, sees that crisp form coming in through the doorway. She gives him a smile that's probably a little weighted down. "Up but still tired."

"I bet. What time did you get back last night?" he asks. He never says _home_ anymore. It's always _the apartment, your place_. She wishes, at least, that he felt like it was theirs.

"Um, around two. There was - so much." She gives up trying to explain. Has given up trying. He doesn't ask anyway, which bothers her in a way she doesn't like to consider too long.

"No wonder you're tired," he says carefully, avoids her eyes. "That's... too late. I think. Too late to be at work."

She nods, eyes shifting to the window for a moment. "It is. Lost track of time."

"And you couldn't be the first to leave," he says, echoing an old conversation. A month-old. Not a fight; they don't fight anymore. Everything is carefully maintained.

"It'll get better," she says quickly. "I'll settle in. Know what I'm doing."

He nods back, just as quick to agree with her. "You have today off?"

She lets the grin out, lets it furl across her face and do her talking for her. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. You have plans for us? Another one of your walking tours? You find us some of the best places."

He moves from the doorway to come towards her; she realizes he's already dressed and showered, smelling like himself, like she loves, and he sits down on the bed. She leans for him, her head coming to his shoulder, their thighs brushing. His arm circles her waist and his palm presses into her lower back.

"Yeah. I have a plan for us. You up for it?"

"Make me some coffee and I'm good to go," she hums back, kissing his neck with a brush of lips.

His skin ripples and his hand pushes into her, draws her in a little closer. "Coffee it is."

His fingers trail along her spine and then his palm is cupping her cheek as he kisses her slowly, reverently. When he releases her and stands, she watches him walk out of the bedroom and can't help but think-

She shouldn't have to ask for coffee. He used to bring it to her on his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

It's not really a plan at all, is it?

And somehow Kate feels worse that it takes her all morning to figure that out. How the visit to the Mall and the Lincoln Memorial, the roundabout walking tour through the disciplined streets, how none of that was planned, none of it actually _is_ a walking tour.

Because it says he expects - at any moment - for her to have to work. He knows she has today off, but he won't get his hopes up. He doesn't think he can keep her here.

Kate stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk on F Street, her heart dropping, and he turns, a little comically, their hands linked, the ring sparkling between them.

He lifts an eyebrow, not even a word of question, just waiting. Acceptance and careful resignation. He must think she's felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket, must think this is it. The day is over.

"Let's go in here," she says quickly, jerking her head to the entrance of the Spy Museum.

A crooked smile lifts the corner of his mouth and he heads eagerly inside, the dark interior giving way to the line to buy tickets. "This is so cool," he murmurs, sounding a little more like who she remembers. "Been wanting to go."

"Surprised you haven't already," she says back softly. No judgment in it, but he shoots her a concerned look, like there might be. Like he's walking a line with her and he doesn't want to mess things up.

Kate nudges closer, lets her body flirt with his, close and warm. "Just mean you've had a lot of time to yourself, haven't you, Castle?"

He shrugs, face closing up a little. "Yeah. Been interesting. Exploring D.C."

"You used to tell me about it," she hazards, risking the nice day with her own sinking heart. "Your discoveries. You used to map them out for me."

His fingers squeeze over hers. "Doing a lot of writing."

"Oh?" She gives him a small smile and they shift forward in line. "What's Nikki up to?"

He gives her a sideways look. "Shouldn't spoil it," he says after a moment.

Spoil the plot or spoil the day?

"Castle." She opens her mouth to call him on it, but she loses her nerve at the desperation now leaking into his eyes. Instead she nods her head towards the line. "It's our turn."

He gives her a soft, thankful smile and heads to desk to get their tickets.

* * *

After wandering through the Spy Museum, Castle regains some of his natural exuberance, still talking excitedly about the stories they've read on the walls, the men and women and their secrets, the codes and missions, the thrills._  
_

He's flexing his fingers beside her now, that signal that he wants to _write_, that he aches to write, and she now has the courage to ask.

"What have you been writing about?" she says into the middle of his story recounting Julia Child's spy adventures.

Castle's words stop. He doesn't look at her for a long moment and then he's heading in the other direction. "There's a coffee shop. Want to sit?"

No. But apparently he does.

Bad news, then. Something he wants to offset with a good cup of premium blend and a shot of fat free vanilla.

Kate follows him inside and scans the tables, busier than she'd like for whatever comes next, whatever causes that tightness in his eyes.

"You get us a table," she says, needing a second to shore herself up. "I'll order."

"Oh," he frowns.

"My turn, right?" She nods towards the dining area and moves to get in line, brushing off his hesitation and taking the initiative.

She turns her head slightly to follow the broad set of his shoulders through the room, watching him smile in politeness to a woman as she tries to get around him, watching him defer and let her move on.

Kate sucks in a breath that feels panicky but shouldn't be. Shouldn't. They're fine. She has the ring to prove it.

Can it-

No. No, it's just spending the last month in DC and trying to learn on the job and not having much time together. He's not going to break up with her. That day on the swings when he dropped to his knees in front of her - that proves it, proves she's reading it wrong.

She thought he was breaking up with her then.

He doesn't do that though, not with her. He jumps when she thinks he's going to back down; he steps up. He's been _trying_ so hard all month, not saying a word against her even though it's clear she's not had the energy to try at all.

Of course, she has a haunting memory of the twisted grief on his face when he walked out her door a few years ago, when she went up against a hired assassin alone and nearly dropped to her death off a rooftop. He left her then, she can't help but remember. He left her then.

He never does the thing she expects.

Kate places their order quickly, waits off to one side after she pays. She lets her eyes roam the tables until she finds Castle again, sees he's gotten them a cramped spot in the corner near the broad windows. He looks handsome, dress shirt and jeans, eyes blue against the tense lines of his face, not even the worry able to make him less.

Such a good man.

As she waits for their coffees, she tries to steel herself anyway. Shore herself up.

If he does think - if he wants to go home, what does she say to that? What is the bottom line, the last resort for her? What is she willing to give up?

Watching him drum his fingers on the wooden tabletop, his head turned towards a sudden summer rain storm outside the windows, she can't imagine it.

Can't fathom life without him. How does she even do that? How does she come back from _him_?

She won't come back, all the way. She'll spend years aching over him. Years unable to read another word, his books or not, because words remind her of him. Years staring at herself in the mirror in the morning, during that hazy time before her self-will can take hold, and she'll wonder. She'll daydream about him, close her eyes for a second and still feel the ghost of his touch.

She aches now and it's not even happened yet.

Won't. It won't happen. She won't - she'll do whatever-

That's the thing that sticks her. That's what catches her up.

What will she do to keep him?

A year of therapy, breaking down a decade-old wall, flinging herself from a roof and into his bed, wearing his ring - she's done a lot to keep him, but maybe, in the end, she still believes she deserves to suffer.

Alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

He doesn't seem to know how to say it; he keeps running his finger around the rim of his coffee cup - a real ceramic mug - and avoiding her eyes.

"Out with it, Castle," she says finally, nudging her knee against his under the small table.

They sit closely, too close for comfort, but there's something about sharing the heat of him against the sudden chill of rain outside the window that makes he lean in on the table, give him an ecouraging smile.

"I've changed Nikki Heat," he says in a rush. "She's not - she's been fired from the NYPD."

Kate laughs, startled by the honest anxiety in his voice, the way he flinches. "Not - not exactly what I was expecting."

"She does something stupid," he whispers.

Kate can't understand why he's so wretched looking, but maybe it's just a side-effect of being so invovled in the story. She's seen him restless and discontent during the most troubled parts of the plot, when Nikki is being attacked or things aren't right, and she's lived with that man, endearing or annoying as times goes on; she knows how this goes.

She wraps her fingers around his wrist, and he turns his hand from the mug to her palm, hanging on.

"Castle, did you think I'd be upset?"

He shrugs again. "It mirrors... I thought it might hit too close to home."

"It's fiction," she insists.

They share a look and she knows - it's never been just fiction. Every book is a witness, every detail a testament to how much he really does know her, how much he sees.

So he's seen something in her now. What did he say - _she does something stupid._

Okay, well, Kate can survive that too. "You don't have to hide it from me," she says quietly. "Nikki isn't a secret."

He nods slowly, his hand warm and heavy over hers on the table. Outside, the summer squall has begun to clear, the sun too bright against the dark clouds. The rain puddles in the street and drips from the trees, but people have come back out to the sidewalks; the cafe is emptying.

Soon it's just the two of them in this corner, the adjacent tables cleared, and she thinks she sees relief in the slanted set of his shoulders.

Kate lifts his hand to her mouth and kisses his knuckles, leans her head to press her cheek against the spot. He lets out a long breath and twists to cradle the side of her face.

They're okay. They're engaged; they're going to be fine.

* * *

It's not her phone that rings, spoiling their day.

It's his.

They're walking aimlessly on the sidewalk, Kate trying to do most of the talking, to find that connection again, when the interruption makes her startle.

Castle chuckles and drops her hand, fishes for his phone in his pocket to pull it out. He answers with a warm and vivid smile - more joy in his face than Kate has seen in - oh, a month. A month.

"Hey, pumpkin. You called. What-"

And the joy drops right off his face.

Kate steps into him, tense, her fingers clawing at his belt loop. His head ducks as he listens, shoulders hunched in. She nudges him back against the concrete edifice of a government building, gets him out of the flow of traffic.

His eyes seek hers and hold, but he's giving her nothing, no information, and she keeps herself in check for him, mellow, telegraphing calm with her gaze.

"Where are you now, Alexis?"

He nods sharply to whatever the answer is and rubs a hand down his face, his eyes heavy.

"Okay. Yes. Are they putting you on a flight back?"

Something's happened to his daughter in Costa Rica.

"I'll meet your plane. No - no, honey. I'll meet your plane."

_Honey_. His most raw, most true self is given out in that endearment. Kate shifts on her feet and waits for him.

"Can I talk to whoever is in charge? Do you have a doctor or-" Castle pauses and covers the speaker of the phone with his hand. "She's either got malaria or the mono has been triggered."

"Malaria?" she hisses.

"Haven't got the bloodwork back. She didn't have to take the anti-malaria medication before she left because it's rare in Costa Rica, and it made her sick when we went to-"

He stops and ducks his head, listening to the phone again. He removes his hand and she sees this fist he makes. "I appreciate your talking with me. Can you explain her condition?"

Kate eases against the building beside him, putting her shoulder to his. His free hand comes up and cups the side of her face, thankfulness and need in his gesture. She's not sure he's ever done that before.

She takes his hand, a kiss to his palm, and holds his arm against her chest, letting him feel her heartbeat and her warmth, giving him whatever she can.

He'll have to go back to New York and meet Alexis's plane.

He really will be leaving her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

On the Metro, Castle stares into the middle distance, not moving, his hands on his knees as the car rocks around a corner. Kate sits so close that she only takes up half her seat, her thigh pressed to his, her ribs fitting up against his so that the bones seem to catch when the subway shifts.

She watches him, waits for him, keeps expecting him - at any moment - to get with it.

But he doesn't.

So Kate gives up and takes her phone out of her pocket, starts looking for flights out of Reagan.

"Castle, how about this one?" she murmurs, stroking one hand over his and linking their fingers as she shows him the screen. "Leaves at 6:38 tomorrow morning."

His head bobs, he clears this throat, and his eyes come up to meet hers. "Yeah?"

"You can do it. I'll get up with you. See you off."

His eyes drop, something shuffling across his face and then gone. "Right. Yeah. That's good."

"I'll book it for you," she says carefully. But he doesn't negate her and she's not sure what that was, why he looked at her like that. So she gets him the flight.

He goes back to staring at nothing, so deep inside himself that he's already gone.

* * *

Back at the apartment, Castle stands in the living room for too long a moment, so Kate heads for the bedroom and pulls his suitcase out of the closet, drops it on the bed. It occurs to her that his suitcase was entirely too easy to get to, like he's been waiting for this day, knew it would come.

Well, of _course_ he was going to be traveling. The book tour later this year, going back to get Alexis settled in the dorms again. Of course. There are all kinds of trips he'll have to make. And Kate as well - soon the AG's office will be sending her out across the country on special investigations.

Castle wanders down the hall towards her, and she lifts her head from the dresser to see him, the way the afternoon light slants across his face as it spills in the windows.

They looked for this place together; it's more his income bracket than hers, but she's the one who loved the light. All through the place, so much light.

He looks tired in the brilliance, the lines under his eyes are more pronounced.

Castle stands at the foot of the bed near the suitcase and stares as she drops in jeans, a handful of boxers. She's not sure what he'll want or need, but she doesn't think he'd do any better himself.

"I don't want to go," he says in a rush.

Kate sucks in a startled breath, lifting her eyes to him. "Castle."

He flushes, averting his eyes.

"I know that's not true," she says quietly.

"But it is." He takes a rough breath and knits his eyebrows together. "Kind of."

"You need to take care of Alexis. Malaria is a big deal."

"Probably just the mono, right?" he hedges, but she can read the conflict on his face, the yearning to go to his daughter and make everything okay.

She sighs and turns toward him, draws her arms around his waist, tilting her hips to his. He encircles her, hanging on, but he still looks unsettled. Worried.

"I did some research," she admits. "You have the mono virus all your life - dormant - and sometimes it reactivates. So it's not unheard of."

He nods, not really with her, still thinking too hard.

"Castle, we'll set the alarm for 3:30? Call for a pick-up. And you'll be back in New York before you know it."

His eyes flash down to hers and the deep unhappiness there makes her chest clench. As he studies her, she realizes - it's not his daughter he's worried about - not entirely.

It's _Kate._ Being away from her.

She lifts on her toes and hooks an arm around his neck, draws her body into his, presses close. "It's okay. It's okay."

She doesn't know what else to say, or how to make it right, only that it's not the end of the world - being apart - and they can survive this.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, practically lifts her off her feet, burying his nose in her neck. She strokes the back of his head with her fingers, feels the lightness of the ring on her left hand.

She turns her head to brush her lips over his cheek. "I'll miss you," she whispers.

He lets out a long breath. "Yeah?"

"You gonna miss me?"

"Of course," he stumbles out, clutching her harder, and she nips at his jaw, his ear, his neck.

Kate slides a hand to his waist and under his cotton tshirt, running her knuckles at his hip, his abs until he shivers. "Castle. Show me how much."

His mouth travels over her collarbones, down the vee of her shirt, hot and needy, and she arches into him, holding him close, closer, so close.

* * *

She realizes she's memorizing him - how his body feels, the heat and firmness, the expanse of muscle. The strength of his arms as he holds himself up over her, the way their hips meet, the slow friction and sweet, coiled need.

Memorizing it all.

His open mouth at her neck and down, the broadness of his hands, the thick fingers. She wants it, wants him, wants to never forget how good it is, how everything falls away, how being with him makes the world right again.

He's so intense, so taut with it, and she's so close, so close that everything is heightened and sharp, and only one thing matters at all, only one.

"I love you," she says softly into his need, his eyes burning on hers. "I love you."

All it takes, and they're both falling, coming apart, blinded and trembling and wrung out and done.

It takes her too long to realize her arms are still tight around him, and then she drops back into the pillow, melting out into the warmth. His body is heavy over hers, crushing the breath out of her, and it's good; she can stay here as long as he's willing.

After a moment, Castle grunts and gets it together, draws her against him as he flops on his back, his chest still rising and falling a little too fast. She tangles up with him, legs and arms, and he pets her hair away from his chin and mouth, arranging it with a heavy, drugged hand, holding her to him.

She wriggles in closer and skirts her fingers over his ribs, finds that spot that makes him chuff out a breath and he laughs, grabbing at her hand too tightly. He presses a kiss to her palm, a mimic of her own move earlier today, and then lays her hand over his chest at his heart.

It's already beginning to slow into a regular rhythm, calming down, and despite the sweat and closeness, despite the shiver at her shoulders where the air conditioning licks at her bare skin, she wouldn't dare move.

She dozes with him in the afternoon light, lets it all float on and away from them. Everything they haven't said.

Because all that matters is what they _have_ said.

"I love you too, Kate," he murmurs into the quiet.

* * *

They raid the fridge for leftovers - a thing he made last week with pasta and sauce and chicken - and eat hurriedly, go back to the bedroom and doing what they do best.

He laughs at her when she falls into the mattress, she pounces and flips him over; they spend all evening in bed, ignoring tomorrow, ignoring the last month. Talking with their mouths but without words, being close.

It finally feels good. Feels _fun_.

So when it comes down to it, sharing a bed in the darkness with his body warm and lax beside her, she can't help but hesitantly ask.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she says, both of them lying on their backs and watching the headlights play around the room.

His arm lifts between them, fingers splaying out, and she takes the silent offer and slips her hand into his. He squeezes.

"Take off work - lose whatever progress you've made?" he murmurs. "No, Kate. She's my kid."

And even though his hand is warm and large around hers, his words go deep.

They're supposed to get married.

Whose kid is she then?

_Not your responsibility._

"Okay," she says slowly.

He lowers their hands and strokes the side of her thigh with the back of one finger, a long breath coming out of him that makes her think that wasn't at all what he wanted to say.

That wasn't what she wanted him to say either.


	5. Chapter 5

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

Kate Beckett stands in front of the apartment building in the pre-dawn darkness, shivering with a strange chill even though it's muggy out here. Castle has his suitcase at his side and his fingers curled around the handle; he doesn't move towards her.

She's not dressed for the day; she haunted him through the apartment while he got ready, wearing only her tank top and sleep shorts, hair in a messy bun. She made him coffee while he took a shower, found herself drawn to him even as he rolled up his sleeves, smoothed shirt into his pants. She ran her fingers over his shoulders and watched the confusion flicker across his face.

He didn't seem to know what she was doing. She didn't either.

The taxi will show up soon; the driver called only five minutes ago and said he was on his way. After the startlingly loud phone call in the darkness, Kate slipped her hand in his and took him down in the elevator, leaning close, and then led him outside to wait.

He let go of her hand to step down into the street, looking up and down for the glow of the taxi, and then he came back up on the sidewalk with her but left the suitcase between them.

Now she unclasps her hands and then crosses her arms over her chest, rubs her arms to generate a little heat for her skin.

She shouldn't be cold. It's another humid DC summer.

"Castle," she starts, turning her head to him.

He looks back at her, something bleak in his eyes. She hopes it's for Alexis, all for his daughter, because this isn't the _end;_ sex last night wasn't _good-bye_. Not for her. She wasn't giving up. She isn't giving up.

She wears his ring. That has to count for something.

The darkling dawn makes it difficult to see the nuances of his face, but she moves around his suitcase and wraps her arms around him, draws herself into his chest even though he's slow to reciprocate.

_It's early; it's just early and he's tired and they didn't get a lot of sleep._

Then his cheek comes to the top of her head and he lets out a long sigh. She holds him fiercely, doesn't want to let him go, wishes she had words for the things they should be saying. But he always starts them; he always gets there first.

His hand comes up to her skull and she feels him drawing in a breath, gathering himself, about to say it.

"Kate-"

A horn sounds and they both jump; Kate flinches and Castle grunts, gripping her elbow to keep her from falling back into his suitcase.

Instead of finishing that sentence that began with her name, he cups her jaw and finds her mouth for a sweet kiss, says good-bye without saying anything at all.

He tastes fresh, like mint and cream, and she strokes her tongue slowly over his, paints his bottom lip until his arms briefly tighten around her. And then it's broken and he's giving her a tired smile, stepping back.

He reaches past her for his suitcase and rolls it down to meet the driver who has popped open the trunk and waits to heave the luggage inside.

Castle disappears into the backseat with a wave, and Kate finds herself watching the taxi drive off, two fingers to her lips where he kissed her like he was crazy in love with her but didn't know what to do about it.

She doesn't either.

She waits on the sidewalk in the darkness, cicadas scratching and clawing at the night and it's a long time before she can turn and go back inside the apartment.

* * *

She reminds herself that this is how she gets the leverage she needs to go after Bracken. If she's got a federal job, she can look into a senator. If she's just an NYPD detective, she's got nothing.

Still, with Castle back in New York, this feels an awfully lot like choosing her mother's case over him. Despite the ring.

When enough time has passed ghosting the rooms of the apartment to be decent, Kate begins choosing her wardrobe with a critical eye. It's Sunday but a call came through Friday before she left - late - and she knows there are things to do, if she went in, knows that most of the team will be there. She's been doing paperwork and case research, learning the ropes and doing a prelim training course, and soon they'll boot her up to fieldwork.

Sure enough, she gets a text when she's halfway through her second cup of coffee.

She suddenly doesn't want to go, and she can't figure out why.

Castle texts her when he boards the plane and Kate is stalling, finishing her second cup of coffee. She reads his short message as she puts the mug in the sink to deal with later. She texts him back, disappointed he didn't call, but maybe he thought she'd be sleeping.

It is Sunday. She was supposed to be off today too.

Her stomach sours and she realizes she's kind of glad Castle isn't here for this. They would've had that conversation that's not a fight but really should be - _don't you think this is eating up a lot of time, Kate?_

Yes, but what else can she do?

With federal resources, she can actually do something about Senator Bracken. Like perhaps, save their lives.

* * *

Another text while she's in a meeting, and the lure and call of just a few of his words on a screen tempts her. Kate checks the message right then, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling too wide and ruining her cover.

She messages him back, _Goofy man. You call her doctor?_

She keeps her phone pressed against her thigh while the AG's chief investigator runs through their options; she's only half paying attention now. Waste plants in DC, a senator - here, she perks up, listening intently as he talks about an ethics violation, what their division is doing in conjunction with...

Her phone vibrates with another message and she palms it, reading quickly.

_I will. And being goofy is what I do best._

She suddenly wants to send him dirty photos to remind him of what he does best.

Oh, but she really can't. Not here. It's not like she keeps those on her phone anyway, though she has a sneaking suspicion that he does.

No harm in _telling_ him though. So she does. In lurid detail even as she double checks to make sure it's really Castle she's messaging, her eyes darting back up to the CI as he goes through the list.

_And that_, she ends, _is what you do best. In my opinion._

She doesn't realize she's holding her breath until she gets his text back: _Could that be considered an expert opinion?_

Kate finds herself grinning for the first time all morning, and he hasn't really even done anything, said anything all that funny.

It's just him. Castle being Castle.

* * *

_Have to go. Won't be in touch for another few hours._

She feels bad when she has to send that message, but he's been messing with her non-stop. Asking her what kind of ice cream to restock the freezer with, sending her website links to stupid things he's found. She doesn't have time for that right now.

She actually has a job.

That's unkind. And she's immediately chagrined by the thought. He works; he spent his fair share in the 12th with her, going places and getting in situations he should never have been. This is back to normal - or what should be normal - Castle the writer, and Kate the-

Huh. Cop? Special investigator? Agent?

She heads out with the guy she's been assigned to, Mercer. He's about her age, a little too chatty for her liking, and he seems to resent her place on his team, resent her position as Stack's new pet. Well, that's two of them; she doesn't much like it either.

"So, Mercer," she says, clutching the arm rest of the SUV. She really wishes she was driving. "How long have you been with the AG's unit?"

"Oh, about three years."

"Not long then," she murmurs.

He grunts and shoots her a look, a little laugh coming out of his mouth. "Not long? You pulling my leg?"

Kate lifts an eyebrow.

He changes lanes with a jerk of the wheel. "This place has the highest turnover, Beckett. How do you think you got the job?"

She sucks in a breath, doesn't give in to the weakness of averting her eyes. It's not like she can keep them from crashing just by _watching._ "Oh yeah?"

"Come on, you knew that coming in," he says, giving her a too long look. "AG serves at the pleasure of the president."

"I know that, yes."

"So in four years - well, less than that now - AG goes and so do we."

"What?" She frowns at him. "But that - that's impossible to sustain. When diplomats are changed out with every president, that doesn't mean their residencies are. The support staff stays."

Mercer shrugs and the wheel goes with him. "Don't know what to tell you, Beckett. But think about it. If your boss back at the NYPD gets fired, and you're his pet, you and your team are all loyal to his methods and ways of doing things, well what do you think happens when the new boss comes in?"

She feels her mouth twisting, the sourness in the back of her mouth. "We do our damn job," she mutters. _Been there, done that._

"Well, then there are less politics in the NYPD than I thought."

"What about Stack? He's been here a long time."

"Cause it's his passion. It's his whole _life_. You saw him. He gets off on this shit."

Kate fingers the hem of her pants and finally moves her eyes away from Mercer's profile, staring through the windshield.

"You gotta ask yourself, Beckett. In four years, where do you go after this? You plan on playing politics and running around the country holding the FBI's hand?"

Holding the FBI's hand?

"Cause that's what we're doing today in Boston. Weren't you listening at the briefing?"

No. She was texting Castle dirty suggestions. "I was listening. Boston."

"Beckett. We coordinate investigations. AG's office is in charge of coordinating the FBI, US Marshals, DEA, ATF. Boston's a big one - you can make your name there, use it as a rung to climb higher."

"What if I just want to stay with the AG's office? Keep doing this."

Mercer looks over at her like she's crazy. "Uh. I guess. I mean - you can play those politics, make sure the new guy likes you. Kiss ass. Sure. Gotta be as good as Stack though; so they let you do what you want. But Stack's crazy."

Kate nods slowly, turns her head back to the window, her jaw set. "I didn't - realize that's how it worked."

"Jeez, Beckett, didn't you do any research before you took this job?"

He's laughing at her.

She stares at the traffic.


	6. Chapter 6

** Scratch and Claw**

* * *

Kate realizes on the metro that she's been clenching her fists so hard that she's broken the skin of her palms with her nails.

She smooths her hands down her knees and tilts her head back, tries to slough off the day with the motion of the subway. It's so clean, so smooth and well-lighted. It's not New York, that's for sure.

She really could stand with hearing from Castle.

_Didn't you do any research?_

No. Actually. Because it's Castle who does the research, Castle who googles stuff and gets excited about the infinite details and runs back to her with another _ooh, Kate, look at this._

Except he didn't do it when they picked up and moved to DC. He didn't do much other than slide the ring on her finger and look at Kate like she'd given him the world. He just - went along for the ride.

He's carefully said nothing about it. But maybe he did do some research. Maybe he did a more thorough investigation into her job offer than she did and he didn't know how to tell her, didn't want that fight, but just figured he'd ride the wave until it crashed on shore, pick up the pieces after that.

She really wishes Castle would call her.

Kate closes her eyes on a breath, remembers the way his body stood so far from her early this morning on the sidewalk, waiting for the taxi. She unfurls her hand against her thigh but it's just her own leg, her own skin, and not his.

Oh, oops. This is her fault.

She forgot to text him that she was available. No wonder she hasn't heard from him. And Alexis - her plane should have arrived, so he's getting her settled and taken care of, maybe even going to the hospital with her?

She nearly drops her phone as she pries it out of her jacket pocket, sweating a little on the subway, her fingers fumbling. Kate calls up her messages and hesitates, wonders if she should call. What about Alexis? She's not sure what the plan was, but at least he'll see that she's reached out to him.

She presses the phone against her ear with her fingers curled loosely, closes her eyes as she listens to it ring.

She's in a daze when she hears his voice mail, startles awake at the pitch of the subway car around a corner. His low tones, the rich timber of his message makes her sigh.

"Hey, Castle, it's me. Just getting home. Let me know how it went with Alexis."

She ends the call but her thumb hovers over the message icon, wanting. So she gives in and texts him as well, a short thing, exactly what she said in her voicemail, nothing new or original or funny. Just reaching out.

She pushes her phone back in her jacket pocket and realizes she's hungry. Is there food? Maybe she can do a vegetable medley thing with pasta and sauce and...

Who is she kidding? Last thing she wants to do right now is make dinner for one.

It's late and she wants to be home but the empty apartment is all she's got.

* * *

"Hey," he murmurs and the tenor of his voice does something to her that a thousand bubble baths and infinite wine can never do.

Kate sinks into the couch and closes her eyes, phone pressed to her ear. "Hey."

"Kate," he says, and the tightness in the way he says her name has her eyes snapping open, her guts twisting.

This is it. Already. So soon.

Because she texted him to stop messaging her?

She's not ready for this to be over.

"Kate, she missed the flight."

"What?" she blurts out. This isn't - his anxiety isn't - oh. Oh, _no._ "How did - have you reached her? Castle-"

"She's still in the hospital down there. They wouldn't release her. She tests positive for mono - of course she does, she's already had it, and I couldn't talk to anyone in charge-"

"Castle, Castle," she hurries into his rush. "But you talked to her?"

"Yeah," he answers, that whine at the back of his throat that means he can barely stand it.

"Okay, you know she's okay, then, right?"

"She's okay. She just needs to - she needs to come home," he gets out, thick and twisted and tangled with need.

Kate presses the heel of her hand into an eye socket, breathes through the way that makes her tremble. "I know," she whispers back.

She thinks, suddenly, that they're talking about more than just Alexis.

"I can't - I'm no good to her just sitting here," he growls.

"She's going to be fine. She'll make the next flight - soon as the hospital releases her. She's got friends looking out for her, right? From Columbia."

"Yeah, but - really, Kate? College friends 'look out' for each other about as well as-"

"But these are Alexis's friends," she reminds him gently. "They really will look out for her."

He lets out a long breath and she feels his isolation, his helplessness like they inhabit the very same space.

Maybe they do. If light is both a wave and a particle, then she and Castle can occupy the same space but not be in the same city. After everything, all of it, she doesn't know how to unentwine her life from his - wave or particle, whatever they are, they are together.

"It's going to be fine," she reminds him again. "Castle. She'll be okay."

He lets out a gruff sound, a noise that's choked-back words, things he won't say, but she knows what they are anyway:

_I wish you were here._

* * *

That night Kate steps out of the bath feeling a little better, and she dries off slowly, lets the water drip from the ends of her hair and slide down her back, making her shiver. She smiles to herself because she can hear him in her head, she can practically feel his mouth chasing the drops.

After living with Castle when he broke his knee, and here again in DC, she's gotten used to his habits and patterns, his usual routines. Right now he'd be finishing up an intense round of that video game - the headset and explosions and Call of Duty Whatever that has him so enthralled.

Of course, the water on her skin calls to him like duty as well, most times. Kate grins and finds herself remembering him, wanting his hands and the sly look on his face and that crooked smile where his eyes crinkle and his hair flops over his forehead because he's gotten all worked up over his game.

She likes that. It's powerful how their lives fit even when they don't.

Kate pads barefoot into the bedroom and throws the towel over the chair, stalks for the closet and her softest tshirt. It's just a pajama top but it smells like him, and the wave of want is so deep, so sudden, that she closes her eyes and buries her nose in the clothes left hanging on his side of the closet, the ghosts of arms and torso and the crisp starch of laundry against her cheeks - the illusion of a body.

Before she can think about it, she's struggling into her sleep shirt and heading back for the bathroom and her phone on the little table beside the tub. Castle is supposed to be calling Costa Rica and talking to Alexis about getting a new flight, but she messages him anyway, the truest sentence she's said all day, and she hits send without second guessing, without letting herself doubt it.

But she wonders if it's possible to say _I love you_ too much, if it loses its meaning over text and time and space. Over a distance she's chosen to maintain.

* * *

She's fallen asleep on top of the covers when he calls; her body startles hard and she gasps, jerking for her phone automatically.

"Beckett."

He chuckles. "Wake you?"

"Hm, yes," she rasps, struggling to orient herself.

DC. Apartment. Midnight. First day without him.

"Sorry. I got your text. I thought that deserved a phone call."

"Don't be sorry," she gets out, and then she gives up on coherency and just crawls in under the sheets, closing her eyes again. "Like to hear your voice."

"Oh yeah? You're pretty tired, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh," she admits, a little drugged with it. She must have fallen asleep around ten, and a two-hour nap is just long enough to feel out of it. "What happened with Alexis's flight? You get everything worked out?"

"No," he growls. "Nothing's worked out. The night nurse doesn't have authority to release her; there's no doctor on call. I don't know what the hell they're doing down there, Kate."

"It's okay. You'll work it out," she murmurs back. It feels stupid, an inane thing to say, but he lets out a little sigh like it's what he needed to hear. "Try again tomorrow morning. Not too early, because they're two hours behind you."

"Yeah, yeah, that's a good idea. I will. Nine my time?"

"Mm, maybe ten," she says slowly. "Give them a chance to get to work, start their shift."

"Yeah," he says again, a little softer. "That's smart."

"Did you talk to Alexis?"

"Just got off the phone with her," he sighs out. A release this time, letting it go.

Kate curls on her side and opens her eyes slowly, sees the bedroom with its bare walls that he keeps trying to decorate for her, trying to make it like home. He hung a poster he found downtown at a protest rally; he thought the mustache was funny. And on the bedside table, a ceramic dog with a tail that wags when she pushes down to pet its nose. She does it now, smiles to herself.

"Alexis okay? Hanging in there?"

"Yeah. She's just really tired. Her throat hurts. Feverish."

"I bet it's just the mono," she soothes. "I had a friend in high school who got it again in college. She was out a whole semester."

He grunts something agreeable, but he sounds distracted. He knows she's trying to help, doesn't he? She really is trying to help; she wants to be of help to him, even if she's in DC while he's in New York.

She told him once, _I wish I had someone who could be there for me, and I could be there for him, and we could just dive in together._

Well, she dove. They're diving. And he's there for her. But is she there for him? Does she do for him what he has always done for her?

"Castle, if it's taking too long tomorrow and you don't get anywhere, call me. Okay? I'll call down there and see if I can't get things moving. A little federal muscle."

He huffs out a little laugh. "You saying I know a guy?"

She grins back over the line, the dog on the bedside table with its stupid grin back. "Yeah, you know a guy. So call me - no matter what time."

"I will," he says, his voice rich again. Dark with encroaching exhaustion. He's been talking with Costa Rica all day, probably.

She hums back and closes her eyes, sinking into the sheets that still smell like him, her pajamas that smell like him, their bedroom and the ways he's tried to make it home for her while she's been working so much. The goofy grinning dog, the poster, the chair he bought at a studio one day; he's been building them a life here while she's hit the ground running.

"You falling asleep on me, Beckett?"

"Mm, maybe."

"Alexis did too," he grumbles.

"What can I say? Put all the girls to sleep, Castle."

He gives her a laugh for that, and she smiles into the darkness, her eyes slipping open as if she can see him, see that laughter and the crinkled eyes and the hand reaching out to skim over her cheek.

"I really do though," she sighs, lashes heavy.

"Really what?"

"Really do love you, Castle," she sighs out.

"I know," he says softly. "Sleep, Kate. You have to be at work early."

"Yeah..."

"I'm hanging up so your battery won't die."

She sighs and realizes the call is dropped, gone; he's gone.

He didn't say it back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

Kate wakes up too early and lies in bed without him and hates it.

She _hates_ it. She hates not having him and not knowing, hates the awkwardness at the end of their conversations like they might not have another good one like that for a while and so what else can they say to ensure that they do?

Kate growls at herself and jerks out of bed, heading for the bathroom. She glares at herself in the mirror and realizes she fell asleep still wearing her engagement ring and the stone has left an imprint on her cheek.

She touches her face, feels the contours pressed into her skin. It won't last; it'll have disappeared by the time she gets to work.

And that somehow makes her sad.

"Just stop," she mutters to herself and turns back around, stalks out of the bathroom and towards the bedside table.

And the stupid little dog with its goofy grin, and seeing it makes her heart flip even as she scoops her phone up off the wood. She forgot to charge it, even though he prompted her to remember.

She calls him. It only rings twice.

"Kate? It's early."

"Yeah," she admits, shifting on her feet in only the pink tshirt and short shorts, the air conditioner kicking on and making her shiver. "I figured you'd be up. Waiting to call Costa Rica."

He sighs, and it's so long, so _sad_ that it feels like he's right there, right behind her. Like if she turns around, there he'll be.

"You'll get her back soon," she says quietly. "You'll call in a few hours and get it all worked out." She stares out the window at the cityscape - so foreign even after a month - and then she turns her back on it.

Shake it off. Don't let it go on like this.

_Be the change_.

"But until then," she says determinedly. "Until then, I'm here to distract you."

"You're here, huh?"

She sucks in a little breath, fights past it. "Yes." She bends down for the end of the charger, plugs it into her phone.

He makes a noise like he's clearing his throat or settling deeper into his chair. He's probably been awake all night at his desk, trying to write but getting nowhere. "Okay, then. I'm good with that. What are you wearing, Kate?"

She laughs and can't help the smile that spreads across her face, sinks down in the chair by the closet door, curls her knees up as the cord stretches. "What do you think I'm wearing?"

"Come on. Play along."

"Wearing my pajamas, Castle."

"My favorite?"

She hums and closes her eyes. "No. You're not here to wake me up. Not point in wasting them."

He huffs a little, but she hears him laughing. "Okay then. What pajamas?"

"Other favorite," she murmurs back. "That football jersey-"

"Oh, the pink one? I love that shirt - it falls off one shoulder and I can put my mouth right there at the softest part of your skin."

She shivers and feels her breath catch, opens her eyes but it's the DC skyline and the grey pre-dawn.

"You know what?" he goes on quietly. "When I first saw you in that shirt, those gorgeous legs, but that shirt - I was surprised that I wasn't surprised."

"Weren't surprised about what?"

"If you'd told me two years ago, four years ago - Detective Beckett wears pink jersey shirts to bed and giggles and likes to play with my toys and will throw an elaborate and complicated April Fool's joke for my birthday - I don't know. I wouldn't have been able to imagine it."

"Oh, no?" Why does her chest feel so tight?

"But when you opened up your suitcase - no, wait. Actually. I opened up that suitcase you packed-"

"Had to pack a suitcase - you broke your knee. Someone had to keep you from breaking your neck as well on those crutches."

He grunts. "Yeah, you stayed with me," he says, something wistful in his voice.

She feels her throat close up and wishes it didn't hurt so much - the things he still won't ask of her. The things she knows she can't give either.

He sighs. "When I opened up the suitcase you packed, I saw that pink shirt and it wasn't a surprise. You staying with me wasn't a surprise either. I guess - I've spent so long trying to understand you, unravel all the layers, that when I got down to that pink shirt, and I could picture it on you..."

Kate realizes she's hunched in the chair, clutching the phone like a lifeline. "Yeah?"

"I was surprised that it wasn't a surprise. A pink shirt wasn't a mystery. It didn't baffle me; it was just like you'd pull off another epic trick. It's not confusing - it's wonderful."

Everything tight in her suddenly releases.

"It is?" she whispers.

"It is. I like knowing you. Kate in pink."

She sinks back in the chair, her eyes open to the sky pearling with yellow and coral as the sun rises.

"Rick. I like you knowing me."

He gives a soft laugh over the phone but she means it.

"And knowing you is pretty wonderful too," she murmurs, feeling stupid, feeling vulnerable. To him.

"Oh," he breathes out, like she's - well, surprised him. She's surprised him, hasn't she? That's good. "Knowing me's pretty wonderful, huh?"

"Yeah," she smiles into the morning. "Yeah, it's actually kind of amazing."

Kate's lived with questions, lived her adult life not knowing at the dark edge of a black hole. Being that to someone else never felt right, never felt good. But it turns out - she's not a mystery he'll never solve, not a darkness that's impenetrable. Not to him.

"Castle."

"That's me," he says, and she still hears the tendrils of awe in his voice despite the humor. "I'm here."

"I love you."

She hears his breath catch, but he doesn't pause this time.

"I love you too, Kate."

* * *

For some reason the day goes so easily. It's not that the work isn't complicated - it is - and it's not that Mercer is any nicer to her - he's not.

But things are fixing - getting fixed - things are better and it took long distance and swallowing her pride and putting herself out there.

It's worked for them before, right? The night of those terrible storms when she came to him and threw herself at him. She kind of did it again this morning, calling him and being honest before she could second guess herself.

At noon when she hasn't heard from him, Kate decides to stop and get a sandwich at the deli on the corner. She doesn't tell Mercer, ignores Stack's messages, and walks right out the front door. She pulls out her phone and calls Castle.

"Hey," she says when he answers, smiling into the lunch hour rush. Not even the woman in the severe suit who cuts in front of her can make this day less than it is.

"I'm gonna have to call my guy," he sighs.

"Oh, no." She bites her bottom lip and stops at the crosswalk. "You couldn't get Alexis released?"

"No. And I talked with her doctor, but I think she's being overly cautious. Which I appreciate. I guess."

"Send me the contact info for the doctor, the hospital. Did you get an administrator to talk to you?"

"Yeah, I tried that."

"Okay," she soothes. "Okay, I'll call right now. We'll get her on a flight."

He lets out a long breath that sounds more frustrated than relieved and she realizes that he needs her.

She can do this for him. She will do this.

"Send me the phone number, Castle."

He needs her; she's here.


	8. Chapter 8

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

She told him she'd do it.

But she doesn't do it.

It's impossible to get the hospital to go against policy, and then the airline's own regulations make it even more difficult. She's got no leverage, not even her federal status, because no one has ever _heard_ of the Attorney General's Special Investigations Unit.

Kate doesn't have a solution and she refuses to call him back without a plan.

Unacceptable. She _will_ help him.

"Beckett, where's that-"

"In a second," she says, holding up a finger as she scans the hospital's website.

A voice clearing its throat makes her pause; she lifts her eyes and sees Stack standing there, a raised eyebrow.

"Oh," she murmurs. She straightens up. "Sir."

"Beckett. I assigned you a task two hours ago. It should be complete by now."

"Ah. Yes, sir."

"And so?"

She feels her hands clench over the mouse and the edge of the chair, suddenly clammy. "I don't - I'll have it to you in thirty minutes."

Stack frowns and narrows his eyes at her, but there's nothing Kate can do. She doesn't have it done; she hasn't even looked at it. She'll have to do it quickly now.

But Castle.

"Thirty minutes," Stack says, displeasure making his voice low. He gives her the once over and heads back to his office.

Kate sinks back in her chair and stares at her desk for a heart-stopping second. And then she opens the assignment in her email and chews her bottom lip, reads the complicated search parameters.

It'll take at least an hour.

Kate snags her phone and bolts out of her chair, stalks off down the hall and towards the stairs, hiding out in the stairwell.

"Yo, Federal Beckett. Why you calling us lowly peons?"

"So funny, Espo," she mutters, rolling her eyes. The boys have given her a hard time about the job - more than she expected. "I need a favor."

"Name it."

"I'm going to message you a phone number of a hospital in Costa Rica. Can you-"

"No dice, Beckett. Sorry. Castle already asked me. Hoped I could sweettalk some Spanish fly in charge down there. She wasn't receptive."

Kate thuds her head back against the wall in defeat. "Damn," she sighs softly.

It stings that Castle called Esposito before calling her, like she was a last ditch effort. More than that - Castle wasn't the one to call; she called him. She did the reaching out this time.

"Espo, I gotta go. I'm really behind, but I'll call you and Ryan later? Catch up."

"Yeah, you go. Be a bigshot. No time for us."

She rolls her eyes even though that found a mark, ends the call so she can get in touch with Castle, break the news.

He answers immediately. "Kate?"

"I'm sorry," she sighs, tilting her head back. "I couldn't..."

He's so silent on the other end that she makes a fist and presses it hard against the brick, her knees dipping and dropping her to the floor. She sinks to her haunches and closes her eyes.

No. No, she refuses to have _nothing. _"Look, Castle. It won't work over the phone. Has to be face to face. All this negotiating won't impress upon them how important it is that Alexis gets home. Have to talk to them in person."

"You're right. We should-"

"Fly down there," she finishes, letting out a breath. "You should fly down there."

"What?" he rasps. "Me."

"Fly to Costa Rica and go get her."

"I..."

"It's the only way. They don't want to release her. But she can check out AMA; you can get her home."

"I can," he says quietly. "Right. I will. You're right. I should've thought of that. Okay. Looks like I've got to make some reservations. So. I'll let you get back to work."

She startles upright, glances down at her phone.

He hung up on her.

Well-

She does have to do that assignment. He'll probably call her when he's got a flight and knows more.

Yeah.

He's right. Back to work, Kate.

* * *

"Beckett. It's been thirty minutes."

Castle's texted her the flight information, leaves early tomorrow morning. No other word from him, and every time she sneaks away to call, he doesn't answer.

"Beckett. Where's that report?"

She wants to know what the plan is to get Alexis back, finds herself awash in deja vu. Didn't he do this to her last time too? When Alexis was kidnapped and he left her with no word, nothing, not even a clue? At least this time she has his damn flight information.

"I asked for that report this morning. _Beckett._"

She snaps her head up to see Stack with those narrowed eyes, the disgust sizzling from him.

Report. Shit.

"I don't have it ready," she says honestly. She's not even close; she's barely scratched the surface.

"Unacceptable," he hisses, leaning in and placing his fists on her desk. "I did not ask you here, put my reputation on the line for you so that you could _blow it off_."

She lets out a slow breath, going for honesty. "There's just - stuff going on at home, and I'm trying to juggle it-"

"You are - first and foremost - a cop," he says, voice dangerously low. "That's what this office does, Beckett. We investigate cases and get bad guys off the street. I thought you could handle that. This is your place; you were made for this. You - out of everyone I've ever met - have what it takes to draw a line and keep your personal life out of it. Be a cop."

A cop. She's a cop; she stays here and she uses _these_ resources to help the people she loves. Justice for her mother. But what about Castle's daughter?

Isn't this what Castle did to her last time? He relegated her to the cop role without even asking; he set off for France like she wouldn't or couldn't come with him, like she didn't _need_ to help him find his daughter. Like everything for her wasn't also broken if it was for him.

When she told him to fly to Costa Rica and he started to say _we could fly._ Did he think - was he thinking about her own words: _don't ever do this again without me._

And now it's _again_. But she's here and he's there.

Stack is dangerously quiet as he stands before her desk. Waiting for her to fall in line.

"I've got a family emergency," she says suddenly, standing up and thumping her knee against the desk in her haste, not caring. "I have to go."

"What?"

"I need time off," she says, gathering her bag, her jacket, ignoring him. "Whatever it's got to look like - paid vacation, sick day, I don't care."

"How much time?" he snarls.

"A few days," she says. "The rest of this week."

"The rest of this _week_?" he hisses. "Beckett that's untenable."

"I have to go," she says, hustling past him for the elevator.

If she goes straight to the airport, she'll get to the loft before Castle can leave for his flight tomorrow morning.


	9. Chapter 9

** Scratch and Claw**

* * *

_You have a week_, she reads in the text from Stack. _When you get back, come straight to my office._

She's in trouble, but she doesn't give a damn.

Kate snags another shirt from the dresser drawer and dumps it inside the suitcase; she's having trouble figuring out what to pack, can't remember what's here and what's in storage at Castle's loft.

Her apartment in New York is gone and the thought of flying home and not being _home_ has her discombobulated. She needs an anchor in this - her job is messy and complicated, her life is messy and complicated, and she needs to find solid ground.

Castle still hasn't answered her calls.

Costa Rica in the summer, Kate. Think. Just _think_.

She clenches her fists and stands in front of the closet, takes a deeper breath. She did something stupid when she walked out of her job this afternoon. But she's been making far dumber choices before that when it comes to him.

Saying _yes_?

She doesn't want that to have been a mistake on her part. Or his. She wants it to _work_. And she knows that work requires effort, requires actually showing up and putting in the time. But she's been putting in the time at her job and not with him.

She can do this.

Pack clothes for Costa Rica. Couple pairs of jeans, some shirts, pajamas. _His favorite._ She works purposefully now, checks the time on her phone every few minutes to make sure she hasn't missed the shuttle service. Fifteen more minutes. Is this everything?

She realizes she's been rubbing her thumb over the band of her engagement ring, working it around and around, the diamonds spinning. With a catch in her lungs where her breath doesn't come easily, Kate notices the happy dog on the bedside table.

She dumps him inside the suitcase, swaddled in her shirts, and she zips it all up. Kate checks the bathroom one more time to be certain she got what she needed, and then she rolls her bag down the hall.

She sits perched on the edge of the couch, waiting for the taxi, waiting. Not thinking about her job, not thinking about DC, not letting any of it spill out.

Castle still hasn't called her back.

* * *

Her knee is jumping. It keeps hitting the underside of the tray table and rattling the ice in her plastic cup. Kate smooths her palms down her thighs and pushes back in the seat, closes her eyes and listens to the vibrating engines of the plane. The air vents are blowing directly over her; she's freezing.

Her phone is turned off, so she doesn't know. He might have.

Castle's flight to Costa Rica is tomorrow morning - the earliest available - and it's a direct flight from La Guardia to San José. Takes five and a half hours, so if she misses that flight, misses him, it'll take forever to reconnect.

If he would just call her back.

She's hurt him; she knows that now. He expected her to live up to her promise for next time, and even though she couldn't see the situation for what it was, she sees it now. She knows now. That has to count for something.

She fixes her mistakes. She can do the work.

"Are you finished with that, ma'am?"

Kate opens her eyes and gathers the plastic cup, drops it in the held out bag in the flight attendant's hands. "Thanks," she rasps, her fingers already going back to the tray table and pushing it upright, locking it into position.

Her stomach churns and rolls with a sudden bout of turbulence; the flight attendant grips the back of Kate's seat to get her balance and then keeps on going.

Kate's knee is jumping, bouncing, and she presses her hand flat to her thigh and wills it to stop.

She won't miss him. She's got all night.

* * *

**X**

* * *

Rick Castle stares out at the windows as the sun sets over his city.

He holds his phone in one hand but he doesn't try her again. She called him five times before he stopped sulking and finally called her back, but now her phone is off. Probably on some kind of assignment, probably out in the field like she's been craving, restless and caged in that office this past month. It's a good thing he can't reach her.

That's what he tells himself.

He puts his phone on the table behind the couch and rubs both hands down his face, sighs into the emptiness. His mother offered to come back to the city, but he told her to stay in the Hamptons until he had Alexis back. Might as well not ruin her trip; she's been doing some local stage managing and he doesn't want to take that from her.

At least his mother offered. That counts in his book. Counts for a lot.

More than Ka-

Castle grunts and lifts off the couch, pushes his body through the last of the light and towards his kitchen. He should make dinner. Or at least look for something in the fridge.

Oh, right. There's nothing. He doesn't really live here any longer. The loft has been sitting abandoned this past month, waiting on his mother to get back in town. No milk, no fruit, no bread. He and Kate cleaned everything out together, packed up together, moved together.

He closes the fridge door and pulls open the drawer with all the takeout menus, starts rifling through them mindlessly, not hungry, not sure what he's looking for.

Something. He's looking for something.

He just needs to get her back.

Maybe he should repack his suitcase. Lighter load. Kate did the packing in DC and he's got random stuff in there he won't need. So not like Kate, the things she included, like her mind was only half on the job. She still folded everything neatly, still kept his shirts together and his underwear in another spot, everything in its own place.

She does that. Everything has a place.

What is his place? A loft in New York, an apartment in DC, a plane ride back and forth, a warm place in a bed with her body spooned against his. He knows his place, he's just not sure that Kate knows her own - and if she doesn't know her place, then how can he ever be settled either?

His fingers splay over takeout menus but nothing looks appealing. He should order some Chinese, eat what he can. He flies out early tomorrow for Costa Rica. He should call Alexis again, just talk to her, keep her company since she feels badly. Of course, she told him to stop calling, that she was going to sleep - _I'm just tired, Dad_ - but he'd like to hear her voice again.

He shouldn't, but he has a menu in one hand and he's going for his phone before he even realizes his feet are moving. He scoops it up-

The lock. The door. The sound of the lock in the door.

He jerks his head towards the entryway and watches as Kate Beckett walks right on inside.

"Kate," he chokes out. He's stunned silly for an instant before he heads straight for her. She drops her keys when he grabs her, her suitcase handle flopping back as her arms come up around him in return. She feels good. "You're here."

She must hear it in his voice because she hugs him harder, stroking her fingers at the nape of his neck, her mouth a kiss at his cheek. "I'm here," she confirms. "I'm here."

He swallows down the urge to fall apart, only barely, and buries his face in her hair, breathing her in.

"I took a week off work," she murmurs. "I've got the same flight in the morning. We'll bring her back. We go together, Castle."

He nods against her, like it's always been a foregone conclusion, their togetherness.

"We go together," she says again, a little sigh at his temple.


	10. Chapter 10

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

"Don't bother unpacking me," she laughs a little, staying his hand. Castle gives her a quirk of his lips in return, realizing what he was about to do, and he leaves her suitcase there in the foyer. Leaving in the morning. She's right; no point.

"You hungry?" He takes her hand instead, fingers twining around hers, playing.

"Starving, actually," she says, another smile like she can't help it. She looks good. Happier than she has in a while, if he's not totally biased.

"I was gonna order takeout. You good with that?"

"Yup. Chinese or Thai?" she teases. But yeah, she knows his usual habits.

He turns back to the kitchen island where he left the menu when he saw her walk in the door. "Uh, I think it was Thai."

"How about we make it Chinese. From Huan's. Thai won't be great for the plane in the morning."

Castle gives her a grimace in return. "Good point. Huan's is better." Get a good night's sleep that way, too. She's passing him and moving into the kitchen, pulling out wine glasses and placing them on the counter, getting a chilled bottle from the cooler.

"White?" she murmurs, but she's not really asking, is she? She's opening a drawer for a cork screw and he can't help watching her. Here. The grace in her movements, the surety. She's so settled, so at ease. How is that he sees it but she doesn't?

"What are we ordering?" she says, nodding to the menu.

He snaps to attention, shuffles to the living room for his phone, his back to her. "Steamed veggies, of course. And I know you like the sauteed cabbage, so that too. Preference on meat?" he asks, coming back to the kitchen as he starts to dial.

She's grinning at him when he looks up again, tipped off by her silence. He lifts his eyebrows, Huan's menu in his hand, the whole kitchen still between them, but she starts forward slowly, stepping deliberately until she reaches him.

"Kate?"

She wraps her arms around him and presses her body against his, a kiss along his chin that runs to his jaw and then his ear, a nip of her teeth.

"Kate."

"I missed you."

He clutches her waist with both hands, the menu and phone abandoned on the counter, and then he slides his palms up her back, embracing her.

"It's only been-"

"It's been too long," she refutes, her body warm against his, her arms tight. "Too long, Castle."

He suddenly thinks she's not talking about since he left her in DC.

* * *

Why is everything easier in New York?

He doesn't like to think that their relationship is contingent on geography.

They changed into pajamas while they waited on their food, getting comfy and settled in. Now Kate sits on his legs on the couch while he leans against the armrest, a carton of veggie lo mein on his stomach, diving into it with chopsticks. He bends his knee to jostle her and she misses her mouth with that sauteed cabbage. With a huff, Kate smacks his feet and digs her ass deeper into his legs, her bony ass against his shins until he yelps, and then they both grin.

They eat without speaking, watching a rerun of Celebrity Wife Swap even though he's pretty sure she's not paying much attention to it either, and he likes the way they've fallen back into old rhythms. She curls her warm hand around his socked foot and shakes it, and he wriggles his toes back under her touch.

He leans forward to switch out his carton of lo mein for the ginger-honey shrimp, that kick of spice they both enjoy, and he sees that half of it is gone already. She ate the chicken first, huh? He gives her a look and she curls a smile behind her chopsticks, puts the cabbage back and takes the lo mein.

He reaches out with his chopsticks and pokes her in the shoulder, startling her, a laugh like birds taking to the sky. She moves his direction, making him grunt with the force of her elbow into his midsection, and then she's putting her shoulder into his chest, nestling in, her legs splayed out along his.

She stops eating, lays her carton down on the floor by the couch, and stays tucked into his side, her fingers stroking over the pocket of his shirt, her eyes on the screen.

He sets his carton over the side as well, wraps his arms around her. They watch television, his chin resting on the top of her head, his heart beating slow to the feel of hers, everything aligned.

* * *

He's the one who has to nudge her awake. She's fallen asleep wedged between the couch and his body and he skims his fingertips over her cheekbone to rouse her. Kate hums and her eyes slip open, her body moving from liquid to taut in moments.

"Time for bed," he whispers. He's already turned off the television.

She sighs and shifts, unfolding her body slowly, and he watches until she's standing at the side of the couch and holding her hand out for him. "Come on," she murmurs, still sleep-fuzzy and exuding warmth.

He takes her hand and lets her draw him to his feet, follows after her down the hallway with their fingers hooked together. "Mm, need to brush my teeth," he mumbles.

"Me too," she sighs but stops, making him plow into her.

"Oof."

"My suitcase, darn," she mutters, twisting around. "Go on. Be there in a second."

He watches her, confused, as she heads back down the hall towards the entry, and then he realizes that everything is in her suitcase - including her toothbrush, face soap, all that stuff.

Castle moves on without her, shuffling into his bedroom and surveying what remains. Furniture, bedding, toiletries.

Actually, most everything remains. Maybe that's bad. Maybe it said to her he wasn't really in this and he always planned on coming back and-

Well, of course he did - _they_ did. She was the one who suggested getting new stuff in DC (her eyes lighting up and her mouth smirking at the idea of shopping), leaving the loft as it was and having his mother be caretaker. She was the one who said they'd be back all the time, that they would need a place in the city for book signings and get togethers, functions and family visits.

So it really is okay that all of their stuff is here. She's even got boxes in the closet of things from her apartment that she didn't want to move. It's okay; it's supposed to be like this.

He feels her fingers at his back and jumps. She's passing him on her way to the bathroom, a make-up bag in hand, tugging her toothbrush free. The fullness of his bedroom doesn't even make her pause, though she startles a little when she steps over the threshold. She goes straight for the sink and dumps her stuff on the counter, turning on the water to splash her face.

He watches for a moment longer, her nightly routine - make-up remover and face soap, water spilling down her cheeks and collecting at her throat, her lashes blinking in the mirror. She reaches out for a towel but it's not there; Castle jerks into action, opens the linen closet and grabs a clean one.

He hands it to her and she smiles at him, her shirt darkening with water now, and then she dries her face while Castle goes for his own toothbrush. They work side by side, brushing teeth, spitting, the water washing it down the bowl. Her toothbrush clangs in the metal holder and she skims her fingers at his waist as she turns back for the bedroom.

Castle catches her wrist, brings her hand up to his lips to kiss that tender spot at her pulse, then lays her palm at his heart.

She studies him a moment, too watchful, too knowing, and then Kate lifts on her toes and kisses him back, tasting like mint and freshness, like morning even though it's the deepest part of the night.

"Boba Fett nearly gave me a heart attack," she murmurs at his cheek, sliding back down his body. "Glad you didn't move him with us."

He laughs as she winks at him, slipping out past him and Fett both, and he watches her in the nightlight spilling out from the bathroom. Kate turns down the covers and crawls across his side to get to hers, slipping down between the sheets and turning to look at him.

He puts his toothbrush back, washes his face, dries off with the same towel she used. Castle flicks Fett's shoulder as he leaves, salute or warning, and then he joins Kate in bed.

She studies him with eyes at half-mast as he gets comfortable, one hand curled up under her cheek, and he leans over her for a good night kiss.

She hums and her lashes brush against his skin. "I set my alarm for us."

"Thanks," he says, unfurling a hand on the mattress between them.

Her eyes open again and she pushes her fingers out to rest in the cradle of his palm, sleepiness etched in the corners of her mouth. "Night, Rick."

"Until tomorrow, Kate."


	11. Chapter 11

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

The alarm blares and Castle groans, slapping for it, his body aching with the drug of sleep. He fumbles until he finds her phone, debates hitting snooze, and then realizes they don't have time. He unlocks the keypad and turns off the app.

Then he hears the shower running; Kate's already awake.

He rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and pushes his feet to the floor, cracking his jaw with a yawn. He still has her phone on the mattress at his hip and he picks it up again, startled when he sees an alert come through.

A message from Stack: _Whenever you deign to return, you and I need to have a meeting about your future here._

Castle stares at it until the screen goes to sleep again, and then he lifts his head towards the bathroom, as if she'll appear and explain. Explain this.

What does he mean, _deign to return_? She said she has the week off.

What did she do to make it back here, to be with him, to go running after his daughter?

Castle grips the phone and stands, intending to ask, to find out, to confront, but he pauses just past the bed, struck by the realization that a confrontation with Beckett doesn't usually go in his favor. And that's not what he wants to do with her this morning - at all.

He turns back around and drops her phone on the bedside table once more, staring down at it as he makes up his mind.

He moves for the bathroom, stripping out of his pajamas as he goes, and he puts a hand to the shower door, opens it, letting the steam billow out.

She has both arms raised as she rinses out her hair and when she sees him, she gives a slow and devious smile.

"Look who's up."

* * *

Kate has her fingers at the towel around his waist as she brushes past him. He goes still at the touch, forgetting what he's doing, but she's already moved towards the sink counter and her make-up piled there from last night.

Castle takes a breath but it doesn't seem to help; the air is redolent with the smell of her shampoo, her skin, the soap they used. He lifts his hand and runs product through his hair, but he can't help watching Kate as she gets ready.

She has oil that she rubs between her palms and then into her wet hair. Her body is clad in only panties and a bra, the warmth in the bathroom preventing her from getting all the way dressed.

He kept the door closed on purpose, of course, so she'd stay like this for as long as possible. He's not devious, just smart, and anyway - she's wise to his tricks. She gave him that pressed-lips look but she didn't complain, and he's getting to watch her out of the corner of his eye as he stalls for time in the bathroom.

There's no much else to do, though. He's shaved carefully, fixed his hair, rubbed the moisturizer on his face, and Kate's still only halfway done.

"Really, Castle," she mutters, throwing a look his way in the bathroom mirror. "You spend more time in the bathroom than any man I know."

"Gotta keep up appearances," he shoots back easily.

She lifts an eyebrow. "For Costa Rica?"

"Never know who you might run into. Besides, you wouldn't want me any other way."

"Oh, I wouldn't?" she smirks, but there's a lightness in her eyes that makes him smile. Makes him feel good for putting it there. Or maybe it's the city. "Try going without hair stuff and face stuff and all of it - just for a day - and see what I think."

"Only if you do," he challenges.

She narrows her eyes at him. "Different for women."

"How?"

"I look tired without eyeliner, mascara. And-"

"That's not true. It's just that you take it off at night - when you're already tired, and put it on in the morning, when you're still sleepy. So it just looks that way."

"Was I sleepy in the shower?" she murmurs, casting a glance his direction that makes his guts clench in anticipation or memory or both.

"No. Not a bit. Try it and-"

"It's a no on the make-up free," she interrupts. But she's still smiling. "Now go get dressed. We used up all our extra time."

He sighs. "Yeah. Taxi in thirty minutes."

She gestures for him to turn around and get a move on, so he gives up the unofficial stakeout of her bathroom ceremonies. Before he goes, he leans in and kisses the corner of her mouth, softly, sweetly, pleased she's here.

Her hand comes up and strokes the side of his cheek, making him pause, and she lets out a little sighing breath. "Though it does make you so pretty," she murmurs.

He can hear the laugh in her voice, but it doesn't matter. He'll take it.

He kisses her again and steps back, leaves her alone to the art of eye liner and concealer and shadow so that he can get dressed.

* * *

Thirty minutes is up and another ten as well. Castle scrapes his hand through his hair and calls the taxi service.

Kate is cleaning out their coffee mugs in the sink; they've both already had two cups. She mouths something while he's on the phone and then moves past him. He realizes she's going for the bathroom again. Good idea. He should do that too, before-

The automated voice directs him to a set of numbered choices and he has to think about it, navigate the menu. He finally gets someone on the other end and lets out a long breath of relief.

"Yes, I had a pick-up scheduled," he starts.

When it's all sorted again, he hangs up with a growl and stalks back for the bedroom and Kate. She's drying off her hands, eyebrow raised. "What did they say?"

"They left us off the schedule. I don't know. Some kind of problem."

She pauses. "But they'll be here."

"Ten minutes," he affirms, twisting the phone in his hand.

"Flight's in two and a half hours," she says carefully.

He nods, tight with it, and she hangs up the towel again and studies him. Just her eyes on him, measuring, figuring things out - apparently - just by his face.

"Glad you called."

"Yeah," he gruffs back.

She reaches out and squeezes his forearm, and then she moves past him for the bedroom. He stands in the bathroom with a faint unease threading through his guts.

* * *

In the foyer, Castle steps back and checks his pants for his keys; Kate hums something at him and holds them up, hands them over.

"Thanks," he murmurs back, closing his fingers around the key ring. That knot of twisting panic unwinds slowly in his chest and she pats his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his jaw, a glancing touch.

"Still have plenty of time," she says. How does she know? It must be all over his face.

He reaches back for the handle of his rolling suitcase and tugs it after himself, finally heading out. Kate stands in the hallway with her oversized shoulder bag, sunglasses pushed up on her face, and she waits for him to lock the door.

His hands are clumsy, but he manages it. She takes the keys from him and drops them back in her bag; his shoulders ease. One less thing to keep track of.

"We can still check the suitcase," she says, reminding him. "Faster if we don't have to keep up with it."

He nods; they've consolidated everything to just the one piece of luggage. It seemed smarter, and it was her idea; she packed them both again.

Kate walks ahead of him to the elevator and his phone buzzes; he checks his message. "Car is downstairs."

She nods as she pushes the call button, twists on the spot to look at him as they wait. "We won't miss it."

"I know."

She reaches out and slips her fingers at the back of his neck, stroking his hair, another quick kiss to his cheek. "We'll make it on time. It'll be fine, Castle."

He nods, but this time he's starting to believe her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

She's so efficient, he thinks. She takes the laptop out of her bag and places it in the black tray, her oversized purse goes after it, then her shoes and ticket, her father's watch. He fumbles with his belt and shoes, trying to unhook his watch, his wallet and ticket with his ID tumbling into the next tray, but he follows her through security.

Kate is shoed and ready to go before he can tie his laces again. She picks up his wallet and slides his ID back inside, gathering his stuff for him as he buckles his belt with fat fingers. When he reaches for the rest of his things, she waits for him while he pushes his wallet into his back pocket, helping him with small movements, little touches.

Castle takes her hand in his, fingers loose, and they step onto a moving sidewalk as they head for the correct terminal.

"We have a few minutes before they board," she says, turning her wrist to check her watch. Then her face orients to him and she has that gentle smile. "Want to stop and get some coffee?"

"Yeah," he nods. He's still rundown and sluggish from their early morning wake up call, and the jolt of adrenaline from working out the taxi service and getting here on time combined with the agonizing wait for security has made that feeling worse. "Yeah, need some caffeine."

But.

She smooths her other hand down his bicep. "We'll find a place closer to our gate. Make sure we don't miss it."

How is it that Kate just _knows_? He's not a worrier, usually. He's laidback, the kind of guy who rolls with it, but this is about his daughter, about getting his sick little girl, and he can't help the tension.

But Kate knows that he'll feel better once their gate is in sight and they're able to keep track of things, make sure they don't miss their boarding. She knows the messy pieces of him as well as she knows the smooth edges and the polished lifestyle; she's ferried into the hidden places, asked about the things he's kept in the dark.

"Hey," she nudges. "This way, Rick."

He realizes he has zoned out thinking about her, and he glances overhead to the sign leading them towards the international terminal. "Yeah. Thanks."

She's guiding him now, and their pace is clipped, quick, moving around other passengers and flight crew, her long legs eating up the distance with Castle right on her heels. He's reassured by that as well. Even though they don't need to rush, she's doing it for him; she's getting him there.

He's underestimated her when it comes to him. He's not sure why - why would he think that Beckett's amazing mind wouldn't apply itself to him, to their relationship as distinctly, as intently as it does to a case, to her job, even to her therapy? Kate pursues truth relentlessly - even in him. She has gotten to the core of him, and he's frustrated with himself for not expecting to find her there.

"Here we go," she murmurs. "Gate 35B. San José. On time. Wow. A lot of people."

He doesn't spot any place to sit. Just one seat peppered here and there throughout a crowd of early morning travelers.

"Castle. How about you sit right here. I'll leave my bag with you. And I'll stand in line for our coffees. Okay?"

She's asking but she's not asking, pushing on his shoulder as she nods towards a chair facing out, empty between a businessman and a bored-looking teenaged boy with earbuds and a Bieber haircut.

Oh, oops. Sorry - he's a girl.

"Here," Kate murmurs, sliding her fingers at his neck as she leans over, drops her bag at his feet. "Be right back."

"You have money?" he says, snapping to it once more. He digs into his pocket for his wallet but she waves him off.

"I got it. Stay," she orders.

Castle stays, watching Kate as she walks away from him, skirting people and dodging sudden suitcases, an obstacle course-terminal. Her hair is pulled back this morning, that tightly scraped ponytail that makes her look severe and exotic at the same time, like she will never belong to him, she will never consent; she'll cut anyone who tries to handle her.

No. Because Castle has palmed that cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear; he's peeled those jeans off her legs, and he's sucked at the skin of her neck; he's woken up that gorgeous creature and taken her back to bed, sleepy and yawning and leaning into him.

He's had her in all the ways that matter and a few more besides, and even if she projects confidence and attitude and bad-assery, he gets that too and everything that lies beneath - good or bad. He gets the woman who obsesses and keeps everything bottled up, he gets the sudden move to DC for a new job that she doesn't even know if she likes, and he gets the week off work and her arms thrown around him and the desperation on her tongue when she kisses him in relief at his front door.

He gets that with him, for a lifetime: the good, the bad, the ugly.

It's not ownership - it's partnership. And they've been doing that for longer than this month in DC.

Castle lets out a long breath and drops his hands on his knees, slowly believing it.

Kate stays. Kate's for keeps. She said _yes_.

* * *

It's a five hour and fifteen minute flight and this is only pre-boarding. Castle rubs his forehead and hears her chuckling, feels her fingers rub over his knee.

"Crying babies in first class," she murmurs, close to his ear. "That would be my luck."

"Oh, it's your luck to blame?" he growls back, throwing her a look. "Figures."

"Better get used to it. This is what you're in for, buddy."

He chuckles and looks over at her, but she only winks and brushes her hand across his lap, the engagement ring winking. His breath whooshes out of him at her touch along his inside thigh, but she only smirks.

"Seatbelt, Castle."

Right. Yeah. He buckles himself in and lays his palm up on the armrest, wriggling his eyebrows at her. She doesn't take his hand, but she does stroke her fingers over his, like gathering cobwebs from his skin, drawing up to his palm. It feels strange, and sensual, but she seems be studying the lines and creases in his hand.

"I - um. I have a question," she sighs, dropping her palm flush to his now, a kiss of a clasp.

He curls his fingers up and squeezes. "Yeah?"

"You wanted me to come with you?"

"That's a question?" he deflects. And then he winces and shakes his head. "Yeah. Yes. I want you to come with me."

"I mean - you expected me to come with you. When you left DC, you thought I'd be on that flight too." She pauses, still studying him, and he finds his words are too jumbled to speak. "I'm sorry, Castle."

"I'm not sure it was a reasonable expectation," he says carefully.

She seems to be thinking about that, no comment in reply, just her lips pursed. Her head bows, eyes hidden, and he lifts his other hand across his body to stroke her hair back from her face, just to look at her.

"But what if it was reasonable?" she sighs. "I told Stack I had a family emergency." She takes a sharp breath in and then raises her head, letting him see her face. "Do I have a family... emergency?"

He opens his mouth to answer and then it hits him what she's really asking. "Of course," he says in a rush. "You are family. And it's an emergency to me."

"You said Alexis wasn't my responsibility," she goes on quietly. Her eyes travel across his, intent and knowing. She sees too much. She knows too much. He can't smooth it away with her, now that's she on the inside of things, the hidden and dark places of him.

"I said that," he sighs. "I meant..."

She's quiet and he still can't find words for it. He meant _don't leave me just because I have to leave you._

"I get the feeling, Castle, that it might be my fault."

He frowns. "Fault?"

"I can take it," she says. "The responsibility of your family. I want to take it."

Just then a man lumbering down the aisle slams into Castle's seat and he yelps and shakes out his pinched fingers, hissing and staring after the klutz who seems clueless to the havoc he's wreaking. "Ow," Castle whines.

Kate is chuckling and taking his fingers in hers, bringing his hand up to her mouth to kiss it, pushing her tongue out between her lips to cool off his reddened skin. He grunts and stares at her, this amazing, _naughty_ woman who was just saying she wants his family, and she grins into his hand, her cheeks a beautiful pink like she kind of wasn't expecting that either.

"Not just _my_ family, Kate," he says finally, lifting a finger to stroke along her chin. "We're family. You and me."

She smiles at him, a slow beaming thing, all her teeth, eyes shy, and she leans in to quickly kiss the corner of his mouth.

"You and me," she echoes. "I like that."


	13. Chapter 13

** Scratch and Claw**

* * *

The force of takeoff does something funny to his insides and he sits there staring straight ahead, listening to his own breathing.

"Did you call Alexis?" she says quietly.

Castle glances over from where he's been twisting his hands - _wringing_ his hands, really - and sees Kate looking at him from the smooth and glossy pages of her magazine. Trying to distract him, good woman.

"Not this morning. I wanted to let her sleep."

"Last night?"

"Yeah, but she made me hang up."

Kate smiles in echo of his self-deprecation, reaches out and smooths her hand down his bicep. "Poor baby, she made you hang up?"

"I talked to her for an hour before bed. But I'd called her probably three times before that too," he admits.

Kate curls her fingers at his arm and leans in, a soft kiss at his shoulder. "You're a good dad."

He thinks he's blushing. That's ridiculous but he feels so opposite of a good father right now that it does something warm and comforting to him to hear it from her mouth. To see it on her face, reflected in her eyes.

He wishes it were true, that he could claim half of what she must think he is. But in his rare moments of honest self-appraisal, he knows he's not enough. It's not enough. He should've thought of flying down to Costa Rica two days ago; he should've-

"Don't think about it, Castle," she says quietly. "We're going to get there and find out she's perfectly safe. She's fine. It's just the mono and we'll take her home where you can baby her."

She's right. Don't think about it.

The ding of the seatbelt light going off makes him lift his eyes, and Kate rubs her palm up and down his arm.

"Why don't you stretch your legs? Get your mind off it," she says quietly. And then the pilot comes over the intercom announcing their cruising altitude and the wind speed and estimated time of arrival while the baby in the seat ahead of them starts wailing again, ear-splitting and rather pathetic in his gasping little whimpers, so Castle unbuckles his seatbelt.

"Good idea," he says over the din. She gives him a twist of her lips at the noise and he stands up and takes a deeper breath. "I'll head to the bathroom."

She nods at him, and as he walks slowly down the aisle, he expects to look back and find her head bent down over the magazine but instead she's watching him, studying him, intense and needful, and that helps too. She's looking out for him.

* * *

Castle steps out of the lavatory and maneuvers around the woman waiting in line even as the plane bumps with turbulence. He makes a charming apology and moves on, using all his concentration to keep from falling into someone else or ramming his leg into the armrest of one of these seats.

He sees Kate's bent head and makes for her, keeping her in sight, but there's something off about the hunch of her shoulders and the movement of her body, and then he sees what she's looking at. Curled around.

The crying baby. No longer crying.

He clears his throat and her head comes up; she rolls her eyes at him.

"Apparently I look trust-worthy," she mutters. "His mom had to go to the bathroom."

Castle sinks down in his seat beside her and glances to the infant. The boy is teething, chewing on one of those cold pack rings, and he gives Castle a gummy smile, looking about as blissed out and happy as Castle would expect any male to be in such warm and close proximity to Kate Beckett.

"Well, pretty trustworthy, right? You _are_ a cop," he says, and then stumbles mentally because she's actually _not_ a cop any more. Not an NYPD officer anyway, and he doesn't know how to get his foot out of his mouth, so he blurts out the next thing that comes to mind as she sits there with the baby in her arms: "Do you want kids?"

Uh-oh.

Her shock flickers out and is masked by that professional and careful nothing. "Castle."

"Right, no. Not a conversation for a plane - I'll shut up. Blame it on my kid being stuck in a hospital in Costa Rica and let's just leave it at that."

"No," she says intently and his heart trips and falls. "No, we should have this conversation. This is the kind of thing we should talk about."

He darts his gaze to her and she looks uncomfortable, but she's also so at ease with the kid, one hand at his back to keep him from flipping out of her arms as he squirms.

"But maybe we have this conversation when there's not a baby right here?" she murmurs. "Kind of a curve ball."

He blanks. "I don't get sports metaphors, Beckett."

She huffs a little laugh and shakes her head. "Save it for later. When we're not on a plane with this one influencing us."

"Does he influence for or against?" he muses, and then the kid squawks again and his ear drums are ringing with it. "Against, against. Ow."

At that moment, the mother leans back over the seats and scoops up her son, all apologies and gratitude, bouncing the kid in the aisle and still thanking them, and for some reason - and Castle really doesn't understand - Kate curls her fingers around his hand and holds on, squeezing hard as she makes small talk with the woman.

Is that for or against?

* * *

"How big a trouble are you in?" he asks finally, stroking his fingers on the armrest because he probably should stop touching her so much. He's thinking about the text on her phone this morning.

She shrugs noncommittally and closes her magazine. One move says, _stop asking_, and the other says, _I'm listening._

"You're still on the 90 day probationary period," he states.

She studies him. Like she's prey watching the predator, knowing the kill is coming, wary of it, not able to do much more than _run_.

He doesn't want to send her running.

That's why he asked now, three hours into a five-hour flight. Because there's nowhere to run except deeper inside her own head, and while she's done that before, he thinks they can push past that now. Mostly.

"You can't get written up, Kate, or you're out," he says quietly.

"I'll have to work it so that I don't get written up."

"What did you do?" He studies her as well, the beautiful line of her cheek that runs to the deep brown of her eyes. She looks more fragile than he remembered, ready to fall apart at a touch. "Kate. Please tell me you didn't do something stupid."

She turns her head to the window and stares out, her jaw working, her fingers at her lips like she's holding back words.

"I meant it when I said I'd do this with you anywhere," he sighs. "I still mean it. I can handle my daughter alone if you've got to-"

"No," she says sharply, a shake of her head. "No. That's not how this is supposed to work. You know better than that."

He does. Yes. "You do too, Kate," he offers, reaching across to close his hand around hers. Her gaze drifts to him. "You know better than to sabotage your chances. If Alexis were five years old and really needed me - needed us - that would be different. But she's an adult."

"There has to be a line," she says in rush. Her hand is icy under his; she doesn't move to clasp his back. "I have to - know how to do this."

"Do what? There aren't rules for this," he frowns. "Our lives aren't lived on paper, remember?"

"I can't be in DC while Alexis is sick in a foreign country and you're flying to get her and you need me."

"I _want_ you. That's different."

"You don't need me?"

He winces and tilts his head. "Can we not-"

"Do this?" she growls out, her eyes flashing to his. "You started it."

"I meant - can we not talk around it. I want you with me, Kate, of course I do. But I'm a big boy. I can fly alone to Costa Rica. I can deal with my kid without you. I don't _want_ to, but I can do it."

"But you didn't even ask me to come. You wanted me to, but you didn't ask. That's... that's a problem."

"I didn't ask because it's not fair to ask. To suggest that you should be doing anything different is ridiculous. Your job - Kate - I don't want our whole move, the last month's worth of work to be for nothing."

She sucks in a breath and averts her eyes, bottom lip pinched by her teeth for a second before letting it out again. "I didn't get fired."

"That's not exactly reassuring," he mutters.

"What do you want from me, Castle?"

"I want you to do what you need to do." He sets his jaw and squeezes her hand harder. "I know why you took the job in the first place. Kate. I know what you're trying to do."

Her eyes cut to him again, something like shame pouring through that velvet brown.

"You're hoping to get Bracken," he murmurs quietly.

She drops her head to her hand and her shoulders hunch and he knows he's right.

Castle sighs, closes his eyes against the picture she makes. Like he's caught her out in some terrible secret. "Kate. These are the things we would've talked about. If you'd given me the chance. If you'd come to me with this job offer at all. If you'd just believed in me."

_Like I believe in you._


	14. Chapter 14

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

When Kate comes back from the bathroom, her eyes are bloodshot. Her mascara is perfect, her cheeks in color but not rubbed raw, and he'd never know if not for the faint pink of her eyes.

She's been crying.

Castle is standing to let her by, and he puts his palm at her hip as she moves to get back in her seat; she throws him a look over her shoulder, something a little cracked in her gaze.

He sits down after her and takes her hand, laces their fingers together. He feels the engagement band, the cut of the diamond, her warm skin. She leans into him suddenly, her cheek on his shoulder, a long sigh out that sounds like the last of it, the coming down from a long jag of grief.

"You're right. I want to get Bracken," she says quietly.

He raises his other hand and loosens the hair behind her ear, lets it fall over the side of her face. Protection, if she needs it. He didn't expect her to talk about it, not right this minute.

She turns her nose into his shoulder and takes another breath. "I'm sorry," she chokes out.

"No, no," he murmurs. "Kate. Don't be sorry for that."

"I was trying to be more than-"

"You're already more," he rasps, his throat tight with it. "You're already - you don't have to explain. I understand."

"No," she mutters, and he can feel her swallowing hard against his shoulder. "No, I don't think you do."

"Kate, I get it. And it's not him or me - there's no ultimatum here. You want to get him through the AG's office; I think that's probably a good possibility. I think you could actually build a case against the senator with the resources you have there. And you should. You deserve some closure."

"That's not all of it," she says, suddenly lifting her head. Her eyes are bright, remnants of moisture, but they're also fierce, that foundation of stubborn insistence. "That's not why."

He hesitates, to his shame, because he almost doesn't want to know. The darkness in Beckett when it comes to this case... just when he thinks he's gotten her away, when he thinks she's going to be okay again, it opens up and swallows her like a hungry mouth. "Then why?"

She sits back in her seat, her eyes on her lap for an instant - and the ring, he thinks - before raising to his. Her brow furrows and she draws in a quiet breath. "This will turn into a conversation about having kids."

This will...

What?

She gives him a little twist of a smile at the look that must be on his face and then she smooths her fingers over the bones of his wrist. She looks battle-ready but soft at the same time. He doesn't know how she does it.

"Are you ready for that conversation?" she asks.

"I... don't know."

She nods softly, her fingers curling at his wrist, her thumb brushing. He's still trying to connect kids and Bracken and coming up empty when she sighs again and speaks.

"You're right, though. These are conversations we need to be having. I should have come to you about the job before it got to that point, but I just don't work like that. I keep it to myself until I have a handle on it, and Castle - I didn't have a handle on it. I still don't."

"Moving away might have tipped me off that something had happened," he says wryly.

She wrinkles her nose. "Well, okay. When they offered me the job, I'd have come to you then, asked you what you thought. That was something concrete."

"When you said yes, that day on the swings," - why, why, why is he asking? is he _stupid_? - "that day on the swings, why didn't you ask me then?"

"Because you already answered every question I cared about."

He opens his mouth, closes it.

She lets out a long breath, her hand suddenly squeezing his wrist bones together, grinding them. "Castle, I have to get Bracken because this détente we've got - this _deal_ I've worked out - it's too precarious to bring my family into. My - children."

He lets out a whoosh of air and stares at her, his heart hammering and floundering in his chest like a gaping fish.

"Our children," she amends. "If you..."

"If _I?_" he croaks out.

"We haven't talked about it. But I can't even have the conversation while Bracken is free. I can't offer it, hope for it, think about it if he could take it away from me."

Oh, God.

"From us."

* * *

He grips the armrest and grimaces a tight smile at the flight attendant, takes the plastic cup of seltzer water that Kate has asked for and hands it over to her. His fingers are clammy and cold with _what do I say now that won't screw this up?_ and he can't make his thoughts stop circling.

_If you_.

If he. If she. If they - Bracken and the deal - _it's too precarious_ - the way her fingers felt around his wrist as she grit her teeth and went for it.

"If I did," he says suddenly.

The flight attendant pauses, comes back to him. "Sir?"

"No, no," he mutters, waving her off. "I'm fine. I'm good."

"You're not good," Kate sighs beside him.

He turns and gapes at her, finds it within himself to close his mouth, try to think. Think. Say the right thing.

"If you did?" she murmurs then, such aching hesitance it makes him want to weep.

He releases his death grip on the armrests. "I have a lot of money. There are ways of dealing with it. I know a guy, remember?"

"What?" she blurts out, her face like a sheet.

"I've already told you," he says carefully, confused by her horror.

She runs her hand through her hair, scraping it back as she speaks, her words clipped, rough. "A father would do anything."

"Oh, jeez, no," he blurts out, staring back at her. "That's not what I meant. I'm not _hiring_ a guy to-" he drops his voice and glares at her "-to _murder_ Bracken."

The flush burns through her cheeks but she startles out with a laugh, a choked thing, but there nonetheless. "This has become a strange conversation."

"I mean - hypothetically, Kate - our kids would be safe. I'd keep them safe. I'd spend every penny to-"

She presses her mouth to his in a devastating kiss, her teeth nudging through her lips to clash with his, her tongue stroking deeply inside. He grips the back of her neck to ground himself, but he still feels like he's crackling with electricity where they touch.

When he realizes she's stopped, that it's just his eyes closed and his mouth open on air, he sucks in a ragged breath and stares at her.

"I know you would," she says fiercely. "But it would torment me. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've had enough of hell for one lifetime. I don't want the sword hanging over our necks if we - if we do."

"If we do... have kids. If _we_ have _kids_," he repeats. He wants to hear her say it, wants to tease her with it a little, see that flush on her cheeks again and the narrow-eyed stubbornness that came in her eyes when he got back to their seats and she was holding the baby.

But her mouth twists into a devious little smile and she tilts her head, her fingers stroking the hair at he nape of his neck. "_When_ we have kids?"

Okay. Yeah. She got him.

Point for Beckett.


	15. Chapter 15

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

"You're devious," he mutters. She's curled a knee up into the seat and she's got one hand wrapped around his bicep and smoothing along his shirt and it's just not fair. She can't talk about having kids and protecting them and all of it and then smirk about it. Like she hasn't dropped a bomb in his head, like his mind isn't blown.

"Just having a conversation," she says innocently.

"You're mean."

"You're being a baby."

"_Baby_," he gasps. She smacks his shoulder for it and rolls her eyes.

"Grow up," she mutters at him. "Are you interested in continuing our conversation, or are you going to deflect with humor?"

"Leave me my coping mechanisms. You know better."

"Uh-huh."

He glances over at her and sees she gets it; she's not fooled by him, but she understands his need to lighten things. The tiger has served a purpose.

"If it came to that, Beckett, I'd do it," he says, gritting his teeth for a second before going on. He keeps his voice low, quiet. "If he threatens my kid, I'd do it. Have someone - take Bracken out."

Her eyes are unreadable; she stares at him and he can feel the hand around his bicep, but he has no idea what she's thinking.

"I don't think that's wise," she says finally, a swallow in her words. "Or right. Or good for you. Or us, our family."

He avoids her gaze then, memories of what he did to that man who abducted his daughter. She's not a mother; she doesn't know. She has no idea.

But she's the strongest woman he knows and he wonders - he thinks maybe - she would be the one to say _no_.

"My kid too, right?" she whispers, her fingers scratching at the material of his shirt. She lets out a shaky breath. "Hypothetically, I mean, but this isn't even going to happen because I won't let it get to that. This man will be dealt with before I feel safe enough to even have this conversation."

"Kinda too late on the conversation," he grunts.

"Okay," she concedes. "But it's - not exactly my point. Interesting diversion, but not what I was meaning to say."

"Oh?" he murmurs. Diversion? He can't help but still clutch wildly at the pictures in his head, but already they're slipping away.

"It's not about having kids. I'm not ready for that conversation in any real context. It didn't occur to me that you even wanted the option until that case with the Nebula 9 crew, and since then I've been... working it out in my own way."

Putting it off, more like it. "If that's not what this conversation is supposed to be about, then what is?"

"It's about the job. About us."

He feels the tension creep into his shoulders again, the eggshells under his feet. This is the thorny part, the thing he's tried to avoid since he discovered her plane ticket and they had their fight, what he was circumnavigating when he proposed to her like that: what does taking this job say she feels about them? Him?

"About us," he repeats hollowly. He doesn't want her to say it. How it's her life. How she makes her own decisions. How it's not about him.

He doesn't think he can stand it if she keeps insisting he has nothing to do with her. He thinks he'll break.

"When the job was offered, I think you saw it as working against us. But, Castle, I saw it as a way _for_ us."

* * *

The fasten seat belt sign goes on at the same time that the flight attendant comes back through collecting the trash. Their conversation is put on hold indefinitely by the movement, the resumption of normal routines once more, and Castle doesn't know how to get it back.

_I saw it as a way for us._

She's taking his hand again, cradling his palm between hers in her lap, thumbs stroking over his skin. He waits, needing a second longer to compose himself, the words he wants to defend them with. But he's not sure he needs a defense.

_A way for us._

"With this job, I think I can finally close this case," she says quietly.

"Yeah. I get that," he reminds her, risking a glance in her direction.

Her eyes are stone, unrelenting, strong. "You know better than anyone what it does to me. The - wall inside. I told you before that I can't have the relationship I want when I'm-"

He gives a bark of a laugh and shakes his head at her. "Kate. Kinda too late for that, huh? We're already in this relationship."

She quirks her lips at him and strokes his palm with her fingers. "We are. Yes. But similarly, I can't be a moth- ah, part of a family..." She falls off, her eyes averted now, and his heart is pounding. She shrugs. "I can't be that person either, give my family what it needs, deserves, if I'm looking over my shoulder. It's a different kind of wall, Castle, but it's still a wall."

He swallows and curls his fingers up to stroke hers, his forearm pressed against her stomach. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it." She glances up at him and he smiles at her. "Not exactly how I'd have done it, but I see what you were doing. Taking care of everything so-"

"So we could do this."

"A way for us," he repeats. And then it dawns on him what she's saying. Instead of seeing this job as something to break them up, she actually saw it as an opportunity to finally have what she wanted.

A life with him.

"We've been through a lot, Castle." A tight smile on her face. "We've been through worse. Until we had that fight over a boarding pass, I assumed we'd survive this too. And then - I don't know. I realized. Maybe we wouldn't. Maybe it's not-"

"Never," he says automatically, the word forcing its way out. "A fight doesn't break us."

She nods slowly at that, as if she's only now started to believe it.

"I was upset," he admits. "I thought you - I thought we were more than that."

"More than... oh," she flushes and frowns at him, shaking her head. "We already talked about this. You know now, right?"

"What am I supposed to know?"

"It's just how I _work_," she insists, but they're interrupted again by the fasten seatbelt sign and the pilot announcing their imminent arrival in San Jose. The flight attendant is already sauntering down the aisle, her smile professional as she reminds passengers to buckle up; she's handing out declaration forms as well, and Castle takes his and Kate's, staring at the slip of official paper.

Kate lets out a huffing sigh but releases him, fishing around for the straps of her seat belt, and he removes his hand from her lap, letting his fingers trail along her thigh as he goes. She shoots him a look, but he's already buckled in - has been since the sign first came on - and now it's time to prepare for landing. She looks like she wishes they had more time.

Yeah, he does too.

_I don't know, Kate._ He doesn't know. What is he supposed to know? Yeah, he knows that's how she works, her m.o. - to hide it away, play it close to the vest, that natural reserve.

He just thought they were more than that.


	16. Chapter 16

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

They disembark without speaking, but they do quite a lot of things without words, so the act shouldn't lend itself this dramatic pallor. He still feels the weight of silence though, and he can't find a way to break through it.

Kate has her bag over her shoulder ahead of him as they stride up the jetway; she looks sophisticated but weary, put-together but her edges are ragged. He did that. Their conversation. She went to the bathroom and _cried_ because of what he said.

Maybe it's best to leave it, better not to fill the air with words that won't ever mean what he intends. Or do, all too much, mean exactly what he thinks about their chances, their shot, this balancing act of a relationship.

Still, the words helped him; things are different now. She was looking at this job as an opportunity to finally close her mother's case - and he gets that, he's thought that all along - but there's more; the motivation isn't exactly as he expected.

She wants to close her mother's case so that they can - do this.

He sucks in a breath and blinks fast to clear his head, follows her off the jetway and into the airport, the crisp and cold air conditioning bringing goose bumps to his skin. Kate turns at the junction of the hall and the gate area, her hand coming out to him, and he laces his fingers with hers.

She moves them towards international baggage claim, her hand loose and warm in his, and he's not really behind her, not meekly dogging her steps, but he's not leading either. She is.

She always is.

It's her job, though. It's how she _works._ Right? She's the first one in the door; she's the point man when they serve a warrant. Castle stays in the car, or Castle hangs at the back of the team, or Castle walks in after the room has been cleared.

_Back off, Castle_, she snarled once in interrogation. She thought he was going to stop her from beating up Vulcan Simmons who'd been insinuating things about her mother, _feeding the animals. _But no, that hadn't been the case. Castle wouldn't; he'd been about to help her instead.

He might, perhaps, have kept her from getting kicked off the case... if she'd let him.

He hadn't stepped up then. He'd stayed where he was and let her do as she wanted. He realizes now that the times he _has_ gone against her will, or simply done what he thinks is right despite her, it's ended badly for them.

Ended? No, that's not really true either. In that damn hangar, the night Montgomery died - he did what was right. He took her out of there to save her life. And they're here now because he did the right thing.

They're here, alive, together, and how can that be wrong? The times he's been forced to walk out on her have been excruciating, have hollowed him out, but they're still here together. They've been through a lot. So why did he let a boarding pass to DC push him out of her apartment that night? Why did he think that a job offer was going to ruin them?

When he made his proposal on the swings that day, he was thinking only that he ought to show her, once and for all, how _in this_ he is. How much a part of her life he wants to be, no matter where she is or what job.

But more than that is needed, more than that is _required_ of him. It's time he stepped up, like he didn't do with Vulcan, like he did do in that hangar. Maybe that's why she doesn't have conversations with him about a job opportunity - maybe she needs him to be a little more assertive about them, about doing what's right.

Castle lengthens his stride until he pulls a little ahead of her, his eyes on the overhead signs for baggage claim, and he guides them towards the right-hand turn, his hand pressed neatly to the small of her back.

She doesn't say anything, doesn't falter, stays right at his side. But this time - and it's subtle - she follows him.

* * *

"Hotel or hospital?" Kate asks.

Castle was the one to claim their suitcase from the conveyer belt; he was the one to guide them through customs and get their passports stamped; he did all the talking. Now, he's pulling the handle of their luggage and heading quickly for the exit.

Kate hurries to catch up, surprised by his decisive movement forward, but he turns his head and reaches back for her with his free hand. She gives him hers, their fingers tangling, and he nods to the string of taxis and passengers just outside the doors. She guesses he's been here before, knows his way around; she's content to follow his lead.

"Let's get in line, grab a taxi, and dump our stuff at a hotel," he says. "Then we'll get Alexis. That way we have someplace to bring her back to, someplace comfortable, when I check her out."

"Sounds good," she agrees, walking quickly with him towards the doors.

When it's their turn for a cab, the bright red sedan pulls up and the driver hops out, taking their luggage, speaking rapid Spanish and then even faster English at their apologetic _Inglés?_. Castle asks for a hotel recommendation and the man beams, promising the best accommodations as he gestures for them to get in the vehicle.

Kate wishes Castle had let her google a place; the cab driver will probably take them to a friend of friend's, the longest route with the meter running, all of that to get as much money from them as possible. If she could've done some research last night... she should have. She's the one who can think clearly about this while Castle worries about his daughter. It's her job, right? She-

Castle drops his hand on her knee and squeezes, as if in warning, and she realizes she's frowning, that her thoughts are probably all over her face. She puts on her seat belt as Castle buckles in as well, and she tries to quell her reluctance.

What does she care? He has the money. It's his daughter.

The drive through the city is stop and go, an urban jungle of fantastic Victorian mansions crowding beside skyscrapers, museums and public buildings side by side with businesses and monuments. It reminds her of LA - the warmth, the hazy blue of the sky, the palm trees, the traffic. But it's also distinctly Costa Rica, foreign, a view and a culture she's only sampled.

It's fantastic, and she wishes they had time to dwell here, walk down these sidewalks and immerse themselves in the language, pick up fruit at that market they're passing right now, sample all the many rich flavors of coffee.

She can smell the coffee even from their taxi. Oh, decadent. Lovely.

"Hey, you smell that?" Castle says, sitting forward with a little more eagerness than she's seen in a while. He turns and flashes her a grin. "Coffee."

"Yeah," she says back, a smile stretching across her face. "Heaven."

"San José was built on the coffee trade," he murmurs. Her partner. Always with the trivia. "The golden bean."

"I could go for some," she sighs. "Gold or not."

Castle actually laughs, a soft thing in the interior of the taxi, like a touch along her cheek. She turns to him and studies the lines on his face, the marks of his skin, the crooked smile he offers her.

"I should take you to the Mercado Central. Freshly roasted, local. Amazing."

"You've been before?" she says, surprised again.

He shakes his head. "Alexis told me about it."

Right.

Alexis.

* * *

"Oh," she murmurs, sitting back in the seat. Her eyes are troubled, and he doesn't know why. Unless it's just everything, all they've talked about, and he can't blame her for that.

Coffee will work its magic, though. After they get Alexis, he'll take Kate out for coffee. Make it right again.

They've had some heavy conversations on their flight here, but he thinks they were good things. Clearing the air. She usually spills her secrets in bed, right after, like she can't help it, like love loosens everything up and the words tumble out despite herself. He can't remember the last time they talked so honestly on purpose, not in bed - or the last time a conversation like that didn't end up a fight.

Look at that. They _can_ be mature adults.

The taxi cab stops in front of a wide adobe building hidden behind stone walls. Jungle plants crowd the space, but it's only a couple of stories that Castle can see and he's not too sure about their driver's 'excellent accommodations'.

Kate's already out of the cab and pushing her hair back out of her eyes, pulling out sunglasses from her carryon bag. She glances back to him and nods to the driver; he takes his cue and pays for the ride, brushing off the change.

"What is this place?" he asks, taking the luggage from the man. If it's awful, he can just walk down the street - there are hotels, chain hotels, just down the block. And still, Kate hasn't said a word against it.

"Adventure Inn," the driver says with relish. "Voted number one. Close to airport."

Castle winces. Adventure Inn? All right. Okay. Kate's stepping up onto the curb, but already the broad front doors with their chrome fittings are being opened and a man is hurrying out. Castle is handed off to a bellman who takes his suitcase and greets them, guides them inside the cool main lobby.

It's nicely appointed, modern furniture even if the building itself looks a couple decades out of date. It's not the gorgeous hotel they had in LA, but it's richly decorated and the staff are incredibly courteous as Castle steps up to the desk.

He reserves the Mango Suite, top floor, a grouping of two masters with a living area between, a small kitchen. It will serve his purposes, and Alexis can come back here and rest before their flight back for the States. He takes the key cards, hands one over to Kate; she gives him a slight tug of her lips, half a smile, and tucks the key card into her back pocket.

The bellman has their suitcase already on the elevator and Castle puts his hand at Kate's back, steps into the lift with her at his side. Her carryon bag is on her shoulder between them, but she drops her arm and switches it, allowing her to shift closer to him.

Castle smiles over at her and reaches out for her hand, their fingers lacing in the quiet car as the elevator slowly ascends.

"Call Alexis when we get to the room?" she murmurs.

Right. Alexis.

"Yeah," he sighs, squeezing her hand.

Time to get his daughter and get her home. Where she belongs.


	17. Chapter 17

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

Alexis is curled on her side, asleep, when Kate finally sees her. Castle is trying to check his daughter out of the hospital, and Kate's been given the task of getting her ready to go.

"You're good at packing," he says in a rush, dropping a kiss to her cheek and leaving her there.

Kate shifts to the side and starts piling clothes back into the suitcase propped open on a visitor's chair, folding what she can, checking the bathroom and collecting the girl's toiletries.

Huh. Funny, Kate has this conditioner too.

She finds the soft train case and fits the bottles and items into their correct places, inventing a few new ones, and then she packs that into the zippered pocket. Glancing over her shoulder, she makes sure that Alexis is in decent clothes to travel in, tugs out a t-shirt for the girl to wear over the thin tank top she has on, just in case she wants it.

Best to have options.

Kate zips it closed and sets the bag on the floor near the door, then comes back to the bedside, checking the room with one last, long look.

Everything's ready. Except Alexis.

And Castle's not back yet. Which means that Kate has to wake her.

She's not sure how she got stuck with this, but here goes.

"Alexis?" she says firmly, a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Alexis, time to get up."

Blue eyes, unfocused and framed by heavy lids, slip along Kate's face and then disappear again. Kate leans in over the girl and squeezes her shoulder a little, some stimulus to get her attention.

"Alexis. Your dad is here. Signing paperwork. Are you ready to go?"

The eyes again, a slow-dawning recognition. "Detective Beckett?"

She sighs. "Kate. It's Kate. Alexis, time to wake up."

"I have mono," she slurs, curling a hand up under her cheek like she might fall back asleep. But then Kate sees the awareness sharpen and her body tense, and then Alexis drags the back of her hand over her bottom lip and cheek, sitting up. "Ug. I was drooling. Sorry."

"Didn't get any on me," Kate says back, lets a smile out along her lips.

Alexis gives her a quick look, a little startled, a hesitance to her that gets absorbed by the sudden roll of exhaustion over her face. She sways and Kate darts forward, catching her before she can try to stand.

"Stay right here," she says. "Don't try to get up. Your dad's just down the hall and he'd kill me if I let you crack your head open now that we're this close to getting you out of here."

Alexis does laugh at that, her eyes sliding to Kate's. "Yeah, I want out of here pretty badly too. I'll just rest until he gets here."

"Good idea. I packed your stuff. Got everything out of the bathroom. Anything else yours that I should get?"

"My bag?"

"Um, where is that?" Kate glances around, but she can't see what Alexis might mean.

"Under the bed I think. Sara stuck it under there so no one would take it while I was sleeping." Alexis pauses and then grins. "I've done a lot of sleeping. People from school keep coming and going; I don't even know they're here. A couple of the guys keep leaving me - uh - lewd notes on the white board."

Kate glances to the board where nurses have written down their names, and she sees where a couple of guys have drawn rather interesting pictures.

"Ah, I see," Kate laughs. Alexis is still blushing, but she has a wicked smile on her face.

Kate ignores that little spark and bends down to glance under the bed, finds the bag Alexis must mean. One of those embroidered, over the shoulder bags, probably a local purchase, and Kate pulls it out, lays it over the suitcase next to the door. "You said Sarah. Is that Sara El-Masri? The girl who-"

"Was kidnapped with me? Yeah." She says it so nonchalant, so blasé. Kate glances over her shoulder at Alexis, wonders if something should be said. She starts to open her mouth but at that moment, the door swings open towards her and she has to step back.

It's Castle. He's got relief spelled out all over his face, his grin ear to ear. "Hey, pumpkin. You ready to go? I got you checked out to me."

"How'd you manage that? I'm not a minor," Alexis grumbles a little, but she's opening her arms to her father and letting him wrap her up in a monster embrace.

Kate stays by the door and watches them, leans against the wall to let them talk. Alexis looks better just having her father in the room, sitting beside her on the bed, and Kate reaches out and idly dusts her fingers over the girl's bag, wonders if she should be doing something. Maybe erase the white board? Castle doesn't even seem to notice it.

"Hey, Kate, it's just mono. You can come on over," Alexis calls to her.

She glances up, surprised, but lifts from the wall and strides back to the bed. "Not malaria, then?"

"Nope. But it sucks. I felt great for a whole month and now this."

"At least you had a month," Castle reminds her. "And once we get you home, I bet you'll bounce back in time for the start of school."

"I'd _better_," Alexis growls. "That's months away."

"You should take it easy though. Even stuck at the loft, we can make it fun; I promise."

Alexis shoots a look to Kate and then to her father; Kate shifts and tries to keep it off her face, how it stings a little, how it pushes a seed of hurt into her heart.

"But Daddy... you live in DC now."

Kate sees Castle stiffen and she shifts back, just a little, just to give him room. He makes a gesture with his hand like it's nothing and tosses it away.

"It'll work out. I just mean you're going to have to rest. Lots of sleeping, Alexis. Not hiking around Costa Rica. We've got a hotel room here in San José, and I'll book the next flight home. Well, New York."

Kate splays her fingers at the edge of the mattress, tracing the waffle design of the thin blanket. She wasn't thinking past this week, wasn't thinking about how this relapse of mono might take the rest of the summer, but of course he should stay in New York.

"Kate. Where will you be?" Alexis asks. Point blank. Just like that.

She lifts her head and tries on a smile. "I have the week off."

"She'll be in the loft," Castle says, and there's a command being issued in his voice. Kate glances at him and realizes she doesn't know who it's for - herself or Alexis.

But the girl has a sharp, indrawn breath. "You took off a whole week? Just to come get me?"

Kate jerks her eyes back to Alexis, surprised as well. "I... Yes. I didn't know how long it might take."

Castle reaches out and takes Kate's hand, squeezes, but his eyes are on his daughter. "This all your stuff, pumpkin? Then let's go."

* * *

Alexis has fallen asleep, tucked under the covers in the smaller bedroom; it has its own bathroom ensuite and Castle has placed water and medicine at her side. Everything's settled, but he can't help sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, watching her.

He feels Kate's fingers at his shoulder before he realizes she's come inside, turns his head slowly. She leans down over him and brushes a kiss at his cheek, but then she curls her hand around his collar and hauls him out of the chair.

He grunts and frowns at her. "No, wait-"

"Unit cohesion, delicate balance, remember?" She lifts her eyebrows and jerks her head toward the door. "Come on, Castle."

He follows her out because she's right, shoulders slumping as he glances back at his sleeping daughter.

"Come on, keep moving," she says, nudging him away from the door and gently shutting it behind them. "Don't be that dad."

"Too late," he scowls. "I already am."

She sighs a little, and he tries to come around, shake off his funk. Kate stands in the middle of the living room and puts her hands on her hips, tilts her head at him. "Let's go get coffee."

"I can't leave her-"

"You have your phone; she's asleep - and will be - for a while."

He hesitates. There's just no security and it's beyond easy to steal a key card or ask down at the front desk for a new one, to slide inside quietly and-

"Did you know that Sara is here too?" Kate says suddenly. "With the group."

He jerks his gaze to her. "The girl who was kidnapped with Alexis?"

"Mm-hmm." She studies him, that concerned narrowing of her eyes, her bottom lip pursing. "She told me Sara's been coming to visit her every day."

"They're still friends," he guesses. "That's good. Right?"

"Maybe they're both trying to... get over it. Live their lives. It's easier when you have someone to stand by you."

Castle sighs and slumps back against the wall outside his daughter's room, closes his eyes. "Okay. I get it."

"We have all night, Castle. And you owe me a coffee."

He pushes off the wall and stands, holding his arm out to her. She studies him a moment and then puts her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"And you owe me the rest of our conversation," he says, closing his fingers over hers.

She drops her head to study the floor but nods. "Yeah. I do."


	18. Chapter 18

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

When they're crowded at a small table in an outdoor cafe, knees brushing and his chair pulled up close to hers, Kate wraps her fingers around her coffee mug and inhales.

Closes her eyes.

Redolent, musky, the faint impression of birch. She takes her first sip as incentive, motivation, and she tells herself she can't take another until she asks.

So she gets down to it.

"Tell me. What do you really think about my job?" she says. "What do you think it means for us?"

Castle does her the courtesy of studying his own ceramic mug for a few moments, taking his time; she hopes because he's deciding to be honest.

"I think your job could be good for you," he says finally, lifting his head. His eyes are blurred blue, not their usual sharp distinction. Like he sees a lot of things between them.

"My job is good for me," she echoes.

"Could be. Good for you."

Ah, the distinction of the conditional tense is important. She waits but he doesn't offer any more.

"For me," she asserts. "But... not for you?"

He doesn't give her an answer at first, but she can see him struggling to put words to it. Good, at least she doesn't feel like the only one who just can't find anything to say that will make it right, make it easy.

"Why are we so complicated?" she growls.

"We're not complicated," he says back.

"But I am. I'm complicated. Issues, PTSD, things that..." She traces her finger over the rim of her mug, alluring and forbidden and she just wants it. But first this.

"Kate, if you weren't complicated, what would be the point?"

She lifts her head and he's giving her one of those damaged smiles; it's a small movement of his fingers to take hers, stroke along the top of her hand.

"I love you. And you love me," he says quietly. "That's not complicated. So let's build from there."

She nods back, frustration draining away. "Pretend the last month hasn't happened," she starts. "Pretend I'm coming to you now. I've been offered a job interview, Castle. There's no way I'll get it - but it's an opportunity for more. And it's in DC. What do you say to that?"

Pride slices across his face like a smile, deepens in his eyes. "I say. Congratulations. If you set your mind to it, you'll get it."

"But?"

The pride dims, a hesitation crawling over him, and she sees him glancing at the hand he holds. The ring. Like he's got to have that image to hold him up.

"But," he starts. "What would you be doing?"

"Well, I don't know exactly. Or I didn't. Then. But it looks like it's a cooperative agency. Focused on major cases around the country. Acting as a clearing house for communication between agencies."

"What does that mean?" he frowns. "Are you not investigating anything?"

She gives an uncomfortable shrug of her shoulders. "It's... nuanced. On one side, we oversee investigations, coordinate the FBI and local PD, or whoever is sticking their noses into it."

"But Stack - that's not really what he was doing, was it? How do you get involved in that? Wouldn't that be what you want to do?"

She opens her mouth and then closes it, staring at him. Why were these not questions she asked herself? Why did she jump blindly into the unknown like it might _save_ her?

Because Castle had become equally unknown. Somehow, within the space of a month's time, she'd lost her footing, her surety. She'd forgotten that_ they_ weren't complicated, even if she was.

"How do you plan to open an investigation on Bracken from the ASG's office if you're not doing what Stack does?" he asks then, fingers curling around hers. "Kate. How do you plan on maintaining that détente - won't Bracken know the moment the federal government goes after him?"

"It might take a few years," she scrapes out. She's gotten this far at least. She really has thought about it. "I'll have to develop contacts, know who I can trust. I'll have to-"

"Work like a dog for the next five years?" he grunts. "Never be home. Take on every single case they offer you in the hopes of rising fast enough to get into a position where you can open that investigation?"

She blinks back the rush against her eyelids, curls her free hand around her coffee, hanging on to it. "I... guess so."

He's staring down at his own mug, not looking at her. "And once you do, it'll be off the books. Have to be so Bracken won't discover it. I mean, this guy's a US Senator and he's been doing this for the last twenty years. So your investigation will be just... you. Alone. Is that what you want?"

"No. But what am I _supposed_ to do?"

"I told you I'd be here, Kate. I promised you that I'd see it through. I was the one who opened it back up again, who put the damn target on your back-"

"No, Castle. It's not your fault-"

"It _is_ my fault. That was me. I pushed you down the rabbit hole. But now I don't even - I can't even stand with you, Kate. I can't be your partner in DC-"

"What?" she cries out, startling closer. "Why not? You said-"

His fingers grip hers so hard that her bones crunch together. "On this case. Kate. Your partner on this case."

She sucks in a breath that feels so vital, everything so vital, and she leans forward until her forehead touches his shoulder, tries to hide how much that misunderstanding shook her very foundation.

His fingers come to her cheek, glide a soft circle down her jaw. "Remember, Kate. Not complicated. Two things are true - You love me. I love you. Whatever else comes from this conversation-"

She nods roughly against his shoulder, lifts her head. "I got it. I know."

"Do you?" he says, his eyes mapping her face, studying her. "How'd you lose that knowledge in the last five minutes? How'd you lose it last _month_ when you didn't talk to me about this?"

"It wasn't lost. It's not lost. I know. I just... get turned around. I told you. I'm the one who's complicated."

He sighs and goes back to his coffee, takes a swallow that she mimics, letting the rich taste flood through her, letting it sharpen in her blood, narrow her focus.

"So your objection to my job is the long hours?" she details, clearing her throat. Her hands are sweaty, panic churning in her stomach.

"No, Kate. My concern is that you don't have back-up. No one to stand with you. No partner in this. Ryan and Esposito are back in New York, and I'm stuck at home. Can't shadow you at the ASG, can't be the partner to you that you need. I'm of no use to you at all. I can't even help."

Kate snags his hand back, lacing their fingers together so he can see the ring, see the way the sun catches it and makes it flare.

"Castle. This is how you help. This is where you partner me." She brings the back of his hand to her lips, kisses the warm skin. "I said yes, Castle. I still need you."

* * *

They walk side by side through Mercado Central, arms brushing, shoulders nudging. He tries to work out what it is he still feels has to be said, what it is that has bothered him from the beginning.

"You know," she says suddenly. "You lost it too."

"Lost it?" he questions, pulled sharply back from the maze of his own mental wanderings. "Lost what?"

"That truth," she states. "And I think that's what makes it hard for me to let go and really dwell in it. Believe it."

"It's my fault?" he queries, raising his eyebrows and glancing over at her. She winces at that, at least, and shakes her head.

"No, I mean. It's natural to stop believing that something so good could possibly be meant for me. That's just the usual-"

"Who else would it be meant for?" he laughs, but he sobers quickly at the look on her face.

"I don't know, Castle. Someone fun and uncomplicated?" Her mouth is a thin line, her eyes not meeting his. "You lost it too. You didn't give me the benefit of the doubt or even... believe what you could see with your own eyes. You just turned it off."

"Can't turn it off," he scrapes out. "I couldn't - it was... we've already talked about this."

"And some stunt I pulled in an interrogation room made you doubt me. Us. I know you were waiting, and it wasn't fair of me to ask you to wait, and it's lonely - I know, I know, Castle, but I was _trying_-"

"Enough," he growls. "That's enough. It's over." They're not doing this again, not going to drag that year back through this, not when it doesn't even matter to this, to now. "I messed up. I let go. I will _never_ make that mistake again."

"So can't you say I made a mistake and it be enough? Be over?"

She shifts at his side, avoiding a stall overripe with fruit, bananas spilling out into the walkway. He feels her fingers stretch against his grip, releasing his hand. He doesn't know what to say.

"Is that why you did this?" she says then. The ring. She means the ring. He can hear it brimming in her voice.

"I told you already, Kate. Whatever you want to do with your professional career, however you want to get Bracken - I'm here. I'm not letting go."

"Forget my job. Forget Bracken. What about me and you? Is the ring a way to hold on to me?"

"Of course it is," he frowns. "Why does that have a negative connotation? I told you I wouldn't-"

"No, no," she soothes. "Not negative. It's not negative. It just seemed... sudden."

How is it that she makes him feel so helpless? "I've known you for five years, Kate. It's not sudden."

She's sliding a look his way, a tilt to her head, an ease in her shoulders. "Okay then, not that sudden. But not what I was expecting."

"I was terrified," he admits with a laugh.

"Of me?" she smirks.

"Of that look on your face," he grunts. "I had no idea what it meant for us."

"Well, when I crossed over to the swings and saw you looking so terrified, that didn't help. I thought you were breaking up with me, Castle."

He sighs and snakes his hand down to hers, laces theirs fingers together once more. "Already told you. Not letting go, Kate."

"Well, that's a little creepy," she snarks, her hip nudging his so that he looks at her. She's softer now, eyes for no one but him. Her thumb trails along his thumb, sensual and soothing. "A little creepy, but mostly sweet."

He stops them in front of a booth selling hand-woven skirts, the dizzying array of chroma-soaked colors framing her, and he cups her cheeks in his hands, tries to memorize all of this just in case.

They've spent the month missing each other, ships passing, not talking. Nothing has been said that ought to be, and now that they're finally connected again, back, _partners_, he's afraid he'll lose it.

Because he's got to tell her one last thing.

"I don't think this job is going to get you where you really want to be, Kate. I don't think it's going to give you what you need professionally, let alone personally. If you have to go after Bracken, if that's the only thing that will you make you stop feeling hunted - then I want you to do it with me. With me, Kate. You need back-up," he chokes out.

Her jaw drops, betrayal flashing behind her eyes. He reluctantly releases her, steps back a little, but this time he draws one hand down her arm and takes her fingers, the ring knocking into his knuckles.

He promised he wouldn't let go.


	19. Chapter 19

** Scratch and Claw**

* * *

"Castle, you're not a cop," she says again, drawing him deeper into the maze of cloth stalls, the long bundles muffling the too-noisy sounds from the market. "You aren't always going to be able to follow me around."

"It's not that," he hisses back. "It's not to follow you around. This is about doing something real. Doing something that matters."

She stares at him, her world narrowing down to the pinpoint blue of frustration in his eyes. Frustration and homesickness. A kind of mourning. When she moved them to DC, Castle lost his job.

She sinks back against the stall in stunned silence, but she gets a rapid-fire Spanish rebuke; she has to jump up again and apologize, _lo siento, _move them away from the rolls of cloth she upset.

"I didn't - I forgot," she says to him. "I'm sorry. It was your job too. And I just - ended it for both of us."

"As you reminded me, I'm not a cop. I should get back to being a full-time writer again."

"But it was your job too," she says again, shaking her head and pressing the heel of her hand between her eyes. She's been a bitch. Wow. "I didn't think of how it would change things for you. Not having the precinct. Not having..." Family.

"Purpose," he supplies dully.

She bites her bottom lip and sees what a wreck she's made of things.

"But Kate... that's not on you. That's on me. My responsibility."

"But I-"

"Before you, I didn't much care if the playboy persona was all there was to me. Now I do. So. I've got to find a way to do that without you."

"I don't want you to do it without me," she says, feeling petulant even as the words come out of her mouth.

He huffs. "I don't much want to do it without you either." His fingers dance along her forearm again, taking her hand. She can't understand why she's so relieved. "Kate, I'll figure it out. You shouldn't be restricted in your career because your new boss will or won't let me ride along with you. That's taking it a bit too far. I know that."

"But I didn't even ask you," she sighs.

"Well. Yes. That was my original complaint," he chuckles. But it's not funny.

"I just - Castle, I just want to get this _done._ To have this finally be over. I want Bracken in a court room so I can _rest_. So I'm not constantly looking over my shoulder, afraid the next bullet is coming. For you."

"Hey, I promise you, Kate. We will get you out of this. We've been in bad situations before."

She feels the smile flirt along the sad edges of her mouth. "I've heard that before. Starting to repeat yourself."

"And did you or did you not step off that bomb and go home with me?"

"I did," she admits, the smile pressing deeper.

"And did you or did you not change your mind and say we were just getting started?"

She steps a little closer to him, lets the smile run wild all over her face. "I did."

"Then trust me."

"I do," she says immediately. "So say it, Castle. Whatever it is that's still running around in your head. I can see it." But she can't help that she's still smiling, that it still feels like bright hope in her chest. No matter what he says next, what revelation he lays on her.

Two truths, right? They build from there.

He tilts his head to hers, so close that everything is just a blur of blue eyes. "Kate. I'm afraid this job won't let you rest. I'm afraid this job is going to run you into the ground and you won't even see it. Until it's too late. For you. But for us too."

* * *

They're interrupted by his cell phone ringing sharply between them; Castle sighs and fishes out the phone, answers with an apology on his lips that dies when he hears his daughter's voice.

"Alexis, you wake up?"

"Dad, where are you?"

"Kate and I went to find some coffee. You hungry? We'll bring you dinner."

"You and Kate eat anything yet?"

"No. Why?"

"Maybe I can come meet you. I slept a lot and I feel pretty good. Plus, I wanna get out of-"

"I don't think that's a good idea. You're sick, and it's-" He yelps as Kate twists his ear, his head ducking down to follow the fierce grip of her fingers. "Ow, ow, ow. Woman."

"Alexis wants to eat out? Have her meet us. Come on. Don't be that dad."

"Is that Kate?" he hears from his phone. "She's saying you should stop worrying, isn't she? Dad."

"Yeah, yeah, you're lucky Kate's on your side. And has such a mean streak," he mutters, rubbing his ear. "Fine. We'll meet for dinner."

"Oh, good. I've been _trapped_ in that hospital for days. Where? I can see a whole gorgeous mercado from the window and there's got to be something-"

"There's that comedor-" Kate starts, both women talking to him at the same time.

"Can we do something native? I don't want hamburgers-" Alexis overlays.

"-one block down from the hotel. She can walk. Tell her."

He huffs and holds the phone out to Kate. "Why don't you tell her yourself? You guys are making my ears hurt."

Kate takes half a step back, but she also takes the phone, something strange haunting her face. She holds the phone up to her ear and slides her eyes to his. "Alexis?"

He can't hear his daughter's response, but he sees Kate's anxiety smooth out. It's still there, but it's not twisting her up inside.

"Yeah, one block south," she says quickly. "You see it? Good. We'll meet you there in an hour. It'll take us that long to get back."

A smile washes across her face, her fingers come up to her ear, tuck her hair back.

"Yeah. See you there, Alexis."

When she sees him studying her, she presses her lips together as if she can corral her smile, rein it in. "Here." She hands him the phone and he takes it, slips it into his back pocket once more. She's shifting on her feet, a flush climbing up her neck and pinking her cheeks.

"Everything settled?" he says, trying not to smirk.

"Guess we'll pause our conversation," she says, scraping her hand through her hair and turning back to the street. "Um. We should go."

"We can walk and talk, can't we?"

She pauses, her eyes darting from the street to his own, but her shoulders relax out as if accepting a challenge. "Fine. Walk and talk."


	20. Chapter 20

**Scratch and Claw**

* * *

Kate walks close, tries not to lengthen her stride and thus escape, tries to keep her pace steady even as Castle dismantles her plan.

"Think about it," he continues. He sounds so calm; he's really thought about this. "How often do you expect to be able to have a night off? To come home and stay home?"

"Is home DC or is it the loft?" she snarks back, winces when she hears herself. "No. Never mind that."

"Right now? Home is the loft, Kate." His hand grips hers harder and she realizes she's unconsciously tugging it away. "Wait. Hold on. Only because we've been in DC barely a month. That's all. You and I make our home together, in the truest sense."

"That was just deflection," she admits.

"I know," he says quietly. "But I was gonna let you have it." He gives her a wink, his fingers drumming against hers, playing around to belie the seriousness in his eyes.

"I don't know when it will slow down," she answers finally, side-stepping a man coming at them with a tray of fried plantains that smell rich and heavenly. She can't help the way her gaze follows them down the sidewalk, and Castle tugs on her hand to regain her attention.

His voice is low, that rumble of serious intent when he drops all artifice, when he wants her to listen. "You said it might take a few years, and that's fine - if that's all you want to do with your life. With our life. And if it _is_ - that's fine too, Kate. If that's what you want. I'll do this with you."

She frowns, her eyes catching hold of a vegetable stand as they pass, a wide variety of gourds she's never seen before but which she'd label as squash. Another food vendor is selling _ceviche_ and the odor of shrimp is heavy enough to stay trapped in her lungs even as they wind away from the food stalls.

"But I don't think that's all you want," Castle goes on. He's apparently done with her silence, or knows her well enough to plow ahead. "You talked about having a family - sometime in the future. How far away is that? Five years? So you dig into Bracken for five years and then you're nearly forty and I'm almost fifty-"

She grunts at that, part of her peace unraveling as he talks. "I haven't gotten that far. I haven't planned that far ahead."

"You plan everything," he counters. "You're telling me the timeline hasn't occurred to you?"

"I wasn't thinking five years," she murmurs.

"It's taken five years to get _here_. And you're starting from scratch, all over again. You've got a year to settle into the job - learn the ropes, all that. Another year of doing the grunt work, the rookie stuff they'll unload on you. By the third year, you'll hit your stride. Like we did at the 12th."

"Like we did?"

"Yeah. You know," he grins. It's a little forced, but he's trying to help her out. Loosen her up. "Third year - one of the best. Solve rate went way up; you finally dropped the act that you hated me."

"We hit our stride," she echoes, but there's an answering smile in there too. He's done it again, lightened her world with a few words. "So three years until I get where I need to be to open an investigation into Bracken. That's what you think."

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "Three years to get settled, gain their trust, find your groove. Get real work done. But by the look on your face, that investigation is already open. Isn't it?"

Her shoulders climb to her ears but he's asked and he knows her. "It is. Already open."

He doesn't look happy with that, and she knew he wouldn't. "I thought we agreed-"

"I've done it carefully. I promise, Castle. It's not even official."

"You have a deal with Bracken," he hisses at her, his fingers gripping so hard that she can feel her pulse pound in her hand. They've stopped abruptly on the sidewalk. "The deal is that you back off. And if you don't, then he's got free reign to hurt you. Or me. My _daughter_-"

"I know. I promise. It's not - he won't know. He can't possibly. I haven't even done an internet search on him, Castle. It's just - listening. My ears are open. DC is different; they play differently, the politics are harsher, if that's possible. It's just _waiting_ for something to break."

"Kate," he growls, shaking his head at her. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. You have _no back-up._ And without a team, you're bound to-"

Castle bites off whatever that next remark was going to be. _Overlook something? Make a huge mistake? Get someone killed? _She bites her lip and pulls him to the crosswalk, watching the traffic bump and jerk through the street. Cars, trucks, bikes, pedestrians, a riot of color and noise that makes her cringe.

"Bound to get hurt," he finishes with a sigh. His fingers let go of hers and skim up towards her elbow, drawing her closer. She leans her head against his shoulder for a moment, resting.

They cross with the light, dodging cars still in the intersection and bikes that pedal right out in front of other people. Castle stands his ground as a motorbike tries to roar through the pedestrians, keeps the driver from hurtling into her. His grip is tight, but his fingers ease when the bike skirts around them.

"Montgomery told me..." she trails off. She's pulled a little ways ahead of him and has stepped up onto the curb already. When she turns to look at him, finish her thought, he's got that stunned and terrible grief on his face.

How she forgets he was right there for all of it. He was the one who had to drag her out of that hangar, the one who tackled her to the grass in that cemetery. His job, his family too - all of them at the 12th. And while her grief was subsumed into rehab and healing from the bullet wound, where did Castle's go?

Looks like it's still right here, close to the surface.

She steps back to him and tugs him out of the flow of foot traffic. She props her shoulder against the terra cotta wall of a tattoo parlor and studies his face, reaching out to touch his side.

"What did Montgomery tell you?" he gets out. He's watching traffic but his hand comes up to cup her elbow.

"There are no victories," she repeats, the echo of her captain's voice in her head. "Just the battle. The best you can hope for is to find someone with whom to make your stand." She slides her hand around to his belt, tugging to get his attention. "That's you. You're my back-up. You're my team. And I'm sorry that I haven't been acting like it."

He lets out a long breath and his gaze comes back to her; he hooks his arm around her neck and draws her against his chest, his breath hot at her temple. "Come on. We've got a dinner date to make."

He's letting her off the hook for now. But she doesn't want to be.

"Keep talking, Castle."

* * *

This is it, he realizes. This is where they find their line and make their stand, battle for it.

"I think he's wrong," Castle says. It's not even his mouth running away with him. He doesn't blurt it out. He knows; he chose those words. At least now as they walk, they're hand in hand, loose, easy, and she doesn't tense.

"Who's wrong?"

"At least about that. Montgomery." He pauses and tries not to trample on memories. "Kate, there are things he should never have done. He made mistakes. One of those - I think - is having that philosophy: no victories."

She takes in a ragged breath beside him, but she doesn't respond. But their walk has slowed again, ambling like she's listening hard, and at least there's that.

"He's wrong. Because that can't be right. You and me, Kate - that's a victory."

She turns on the sidewalk to stare at him, their hands falling away, and when she's still not said anything after a long minute, he nudges her forward, leads them towards the _comedor_ where they're supposed to meet his daughter.

"You've been treating your whole life like that, you know," he says confidently. Not much more he can do but keep talking, pushing words out there to convince her. Make her see. "Like your life is a battle. Ongoing, never-ending. Isn't it exhausting?"

At her silence, Castle glances over to check on her, sees the sharp line of her mouth is twisted and her eyes are avoiding his. "Yes," she says finally. "Exhausting is a word for it."

"I don't think your life is a battle, Kate. I've never viewed it like that. Every time you gave justice to a victim, every time you showed compassion to those families - those were victories."

Her hand comes back to tangle in his, her grip extra hard, like she has to hang on.

"What about this?" he adds. "You and me in Costa Rica, heading to dinner with my daughter, being able to do this at all. I consider that a victory."

She lets out her breath now and he can practically feel her eyes on him, studying.

"A job at the AG's in DC. What is that?" she says suddenly.

"That's a victory too, Kate. It's an honor to be asked - invited - to DC. I might not love how we got there," he murmurs, giving her a little smile to show no hard feelings. "But it's a good career move."

She nods slowly.

"Despite your mom's murder, despite the things you've had thrown in your way, you've overcome. Your _life_ is a victory."

Her hand loosens in his, relaxing a little. "You... you make that possible, Castle. And if the job was - is - at all a good move, it needs to be a victory for us. Both of us. Our life."

They're close. The _comedor_ is just down the block and he can see his daughter waiting outside; her back is to them and she has a bottle of water in her hand, her hair shining like gold.

"Yeah," he agrees finally. "Both of us. Our life. We'll figure it out."

"Let's figure it out right now," Kate says quickly. "Because I don't want to lose this. You. Or the ability to talk about this honestly."

They have maybe twenty yards. He's not sure it can be done.

"Let's nail down the timeline," she says, her fingers squeezing around his. "Okay? Right now."

"The timeline. I..."

"First-" She cuts off, and he can hear her sharp breath, practically feel her heart pounding. Why is she nervous? "I want us to get married. Next year. In - in New York."

"Oh?" Does that mean-?

"I know that means we'll have to fly up on weekends to get all the details right, and that - I don't know - I might not have the time - I'm going to be treated like a rookie, all the grunt work - but I will do the best I can to be right there with you. But you might have to plan a lot of it."

"I can do that," he agrees, only fifteen yards away from the restaurant now. Alexis still hasn't seen them, and Kate's talking about their wedding. "You have any ideas about what you want?"

"You."

He startles and looks over at her and she just gives him a half-smile, a little shy.

"That's pretty much my main criteria." She glances down the street; she must be measuring their time against the mark of his daughter's position as well.

"Okay. So. You have a date in mind or-"

"No. Just - next year. A year. So I guess May. Whatever weekend works out best. And then the year after that..."

"Yeah?"

"We're either somewhere on this case, both of us, or we're not."

Alexis has turned now; she's watching the street idly, not really looking for them. Castle doesn't wave yet, doesn't draw her attention because his is totally on Kate. "Or we're not?"

"You're right. Five years from now is too late for us."

His stomach trips, or maybe his feet, because she's suddenly chuffing a soft laugh and having to hold him up. Castle stares over at her, but there aren't any words for that.

"My intention isn't to plan it out for you, for us, without asking. Not this time. So. You know. We can still decide how fast we take it. If we want to do it at all. But we can have that conversation in two years."

He still has nothing. Nothing. And now his daughter has seen them and she gives an ultra-cool wave of her fingers, lips pulled into a smile, and he can't help but thinking about doing that with Kate - having that - and he's tongue-tied still.

"Two years is what I'll give the case," Kate continues. "But that means I need you with me on this. I need my partner."

"I'm there," he nods, his throat dry. "You have me. I'd been thinking I could make rounds of the social circuit in DC. Play up the famous author stuff. Get close to people who are close to him."

Her fingers tighten around his. "That's... a good idea. Yeah, that could be more helpful than anything I can do at the AG's office, actually."

"Just. To make it clear. Two years and then we...?"

"We're either in a court room testifying or well, let's be honest, giving deposition for a grand jury. _Or._ Or we're home in New York. However we can get there."

"That's a pretty strict timeline-"

"It has to be," she says thickly, her hand squeezing his again. They've got maybe five yards before they're right on Alexis and Kate suddenly puts her other hand to his chest, makes him stop. "Castle, it has to be. I'm not willing to battle any more, this endless, _exhausting_... "

Castle draws his hands up her back, pulls her in a little closer as he dips his head to softly kiss that troubled, intent line of her mouth.

"I want to marry you," he says quietly. "We'll do what we have to do, but I don't want you to compromise."

"Two years. It's not a compromise, Rick. It's a promise." Her kiss is fierce, an explosion of feeling, fire, love. "This is more important. This is my victory."

And then she turns her face towards Alexis and their dinner plans. They walk the last few yards together, hand in hand, arriving at the same time.


End file.
